Star Trek: Infinite Diversity
by SonOfTed
Summary: Restored from the dead by the evil Sentinel, Dr. Tolian Soran uses his new lease on life to travel back into Starfleet's past with plans to implement a brand new, sinister agenda. As usual, fan fiction utilizing all FIVE Star Trek series! Read me FIFTH!
1. Past Prologue

**DISCLAIMER:** _The following is fan fiction utilizing events and characters from FIVE "Star Trek" television series and all related movies. It is fan fiction only… there is NO intent here to collect income or infringe on the trademarks, copyrights, or patented work of others. Please DO NOT use this material for anything other than pure reading enjoyment. If you have been missing at least occasional new "Star Trek" episodes in your life, this is the place to come._

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**Star Trek: Infinite Diversity**

* * *

_I have not kept up with the "Star Trek" novels the past few years. Since many of the book plots have at times varied from what we see on screen anyway, this storyline is based primarily upon the episodes that we have viewed at home on TV and the movies we've watched while munching popcorn in the theatres._

_If you haven't read my other stories yet, I strongly urge you to do so BEFORE reading this one. Although I have tried to write stand-alone episodes, there are some common characters involved in each that relate to the sequence in which they were written. One thing inevitably leads to another, and the major characters do evolve and develop over time. Thus the correct reading order is: Absolution, Eternal Soul, Dark Archon, Reign Of Terror & only then should you read "Infinite Diversity". The most recent three are a trilogy of sorts, springing off from a hopefully surprising development during the conclusion of "Eternal Soul"._

_Each time I do a "Trek" story I have done my best to add something unique and different to the mix and yet stay true to the original heart and soul that has defined "Star Trek". As part of my ongoing effort to tip my cap to my favorite Science Fiction series of all time, each chapter in this story is named after one of the episodes from "Deep Space Nine". During "Reign of Terror", my last story, I used episode names from the original "Star Trek". Since the writers of "Deep Space Nine" also put a lot of thought and creative imagination into many of their own titles, I have decided to once again "borrow" something from the real shows for my own chapters. After all, in my earlier stories I had to think up quite a few original names of my own, and it's a lot tougher process than it may at first appear to be! Thus each episode title chosen in this tale is meant to pay tribute to the show, but will also reflect the events of each chapter in this particular storyline. It's a fun challenge that worked out well last time out._

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**Past Prologue**

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Preserver star cluster 112, Council of the Elders, 5.2 million years in the future

* * *

Commander Frank Roberts, the very human looking Data-Class android from Starfleet's past, arrived precisely on time at the massive auditorium serving as the meeting place for the Preserver's Council of Elders. Although he was exactly the same height and weight as the original Data, his hair color was a lighter shade of brown and his facial features completely different. Many of his colleagues in the distant past preferred to retain the original appearance of their common ancestor, but some of them purposefully varied their appearance, personality, and even on occasion gender. Roberts himself had a distinct maverick streak… a trait easily confirmed by his past decisions and more prominently by his unexpected decision to remain in the future with the Preservers. He was now the official, recognized leader of the Federation delegation – appointed to replace the infamous Sentinel. Somewhat ironically the positronically powered android was also the chief negotiator representing humanity along with all other species native to the Milky Way galaxy.

The Preservers continued to be a very ancient, long lived culture comprised of thousands of different species. Their history spanned countless millennia and – in rare cases – even crossed into alternate realities. Recently and unexpectedly, Starfleet officials living in the distant past discovered that they now possessed a voice in everything this species said and did. The Preservers had once roamed the Milky Way, after all, terra forming and oftentimes even creating entire, habitable planets out of otherwise dead worlds. At times they had even stabilized dying stars or corrected the orbit of planets that were not quite situated properly in order to cultivate new life.

Everywhere they traveled the Preservers had seeded living plants, animals and humanoids on countless worlds. Repeatedly and efficiently, their culture worked tirelessly, striving to leave behind conditions that would encourage biology to flourish. In many ways they had proven to be the antithesis of Starfleet, since those who ruled the Council of Elders were driven by a strong desire to _deliberately_ interfere in the affairs of others. They were also willing to live with the consequences of those actions, and had even been adversely impacted by them on occasion. The Sentinel's outrageous plans for the Milky Way had prompted Data, Captain of the _U.S.S. Relativity_, to intervene in his affairs. His counterattack had left the Preserver computer systems crashed and their technology useless, leading to the hasty departure of the Sentinel and installation of Frank Roberts in his place.

_But their sole purpose in living was to _share_ the experience… they _wanted_ new cultures to thrive._

Roberts often attended Council meetings, but even so he permitted himself a quick glance around at the familiar surroundings while entering near the speaking platform. It was immediately obvious that – on a busy day – the spacious chamber could no doubt comfortably seat thousands of people. Judging solely by the walkways strategically positioned at various points between the endless rows of chairs, larger meetings were quite common. Each aisle led directly toward the central stage where a large, beautifully polished wooden podium allowed Council Elders to regularly speak to the various alien species representing the many cultures comprising their massive government. The entire lecture hall was an enclosed room, with beautifully cast gold-trimmed, ivory-colored metallic support pillars spiraling up toward the ceiling to support the massive roof above them. On this particular occasion the usual throngs of people were missing. Only the Magistrate and Chaplain – the pair of leaders in charge of the overall Council – awaited him.

Roberts was dressed similarly to the other two. Each of them wore the soft, silver-toned jackets and charcoal black slacks customarily preferred by active Council members. But whereas the Chaplain had noticeably graying hair, the Magistrate's remained dark black despite his age. Although he chose to keep his hair dyed in order to present the vigorous appearance of youth, the supreme leader of the Council had observed his dark locks thinning considerably as he aged. The extreme maturity of both men was readily apparent simply by observing the deeply lined wrinkles and soft brown spots on their faces and hands. Roberts moved to a position in front of the podium and proceeded toward the edge of the stage. He came to a stop in front of them with his head bowed respectfully, a formality commonly offered to the senior Elders by anyone seeking an audience.

"I have news," announced the android after a prolonged pause. His eyes flickered upward to meet the stern gaze from the other two. The expression on his face was noticeably calm and betrayed nothing.

The Magistrate nodded in response and held up a cautious hand. "Hold for a moment if you would, Commander," he responded in a deep voice that boomed across the stage and its surrounding silence. "I have just received a message from Briea. Your friend Captain Data is in the process of accessing our subspace network's communication resources so that he can establish a direct link with this Council. I am told that his arrival here is imminent, and that he wishes to speak with us."

A small android smile appeared, lighting up Roberts' normally expressionless features. "From what I have heard, Data is no longer a Captain," he commented with obvious intrigue. "A great deal has changed from his perspective."

Less than a minute later the Magistrate's prediction came to pass. A transparent outline of a humanoid figure appeared several meters to the right of Frank Roberts. Gradually over the space of another few seconds the rest of the details filled in, and a familiar, recognizable isomorphic projection of the android that Data had once been finished materializing. "_Greetings_," the former _Relativity_ Captain announced with his usual aplomb. "_I have received Commander Ducane's distress call from the past and understand that we are facing yet another unexpected… situation_."

"Indeed we are," replied the Magistrate tersely. "And once again we have the Sentinel to thank as the spark for this latest fire. His duplicate of Dr. Tolian Soran has seized a sophisticated Preserver electronics vessel and used it to travel into Starfleet's past." The obviously troubled leader of the Council shook his head with obvious frustration before finally taking a deep breath and regaining full control of his composure. He placed his hands on either side of the podium and clutched its surface tightly. "Even though he was subsequently banished from this Council and all of its Guild memberships, the aftereffects of the Sentinel's dubious plan for your home galaxy continue to haunt us."

The Chaplain stepped forward, his own demeanor serious. Nevertheless, his expression was noticeably less grim than that of his colleague. "Dr. Soran took a RI-CAD headset with him – a Remote Interface, Command Access Device. It permits him to interface his thought process directly with all of our computerized subspace resources, and is very similar in design and capability to the one regularly used by the Sentinel prior to his dismissal."

"_I am interfacing with Briea in order to request the identification protocols for the headset Soran took,_" Data noted quickly, pausing briefly to process the new information. "_I am utilizing the new data to search for any recent activity initiated from Soran's RI-CAD._" He paused politely while processing the information, allowing them to digest his words before continuing. "_Interesting,_" Data continued after a moment. "_Wherever he is, Soran has not yet attempted to access the network_. _If he had tried, I would know about such a request and be able to instantly pinpoint a specific location in time and space_."

The Chaplain stepped forward to examine Data more closely, studying the detailed projection process that allowed him to create an almost identical, physical duplicate of his android body. "You are no longer a life form in the traditional sense," the Preserver spiritual leader speculated, using his alien intuitive abilities. "However, I sense that your mind is still very active and fully sentient."

"_All of my hardware and software is now a part of the Preserver subspace network_," agreed Data, casting his head to one side as he spoke the words. His expression appeared to be one of extreme curiosity. "_Since electronic communications within the realm are exchanged at a speed many times faster than that of light, the usual lengthy pauses required from me while interacting with humanoids during a normal conversation now feel somewhat odd to me. I never expected that I would forget what life outside the network was like so quickly_." He shrugged off the unexpected discomfort almost immediately. "_Your message indicated that you believe Soran is in the Alpha Quadrant of Starfleet's home galaxy… most probably its 22nd century. Have you been able to determine _why_ he chose that particular point in time?_"

Roberts nodded in response. "Jean-Luc Picard knew Soran better than any of us, and he is virtually certain he knows what the Doctor plans to do." He paused for a moment, silently reviewing memories of a recent discussion he had held with the Sentinel's duplicates of Picard and James Kirk. "The vessel Soran stole is used primarily for replicating large stores of space-based equipment… everything from precision electronics to simple hull plating. Even if he chooses to avoid our subspace network, the RI-CAD headset permits him to interact directly with his ship's computer via a neural interface. That does not bode well for us if we hope to retain Starfleet history in its present form."

The Magistrate's expression grew troubled. "I agree. With that headset Soran has at his disposal _all_ of the abilities that the Sentinel possessed. He can cause a great deal of trouble from that point in Starfleet's history – possibly forever altering your future."

"_With respect Magistrate_," interjected Data, "_now that I have Soran's access code, I can use the newly established security protocols to block a majority of his access rights. Any use he wishes to make of Preserver resources must first be approved directly by me. I possess majority control over the new software enhancements that were only recently implemented to eliminate the corruption and abuse of our technological capabilities outside of subspace. Trust me, even though Soran may have in his possession a RI-CAD, he does not have the ability to control anything other than the resources of the vessel that he took with him_."

"That is good to know Data… though his vessel still grants him access to significant resources," the Magistrate replied, stepping away from behind the large podium at the center of the stage. Moving swiftly toward the short, central stairway leading down into the auditorium, the tall, broad-shouldered leader of the Council of the Elders sighed with relief. He came to a stop next to the first row of seating, and – picking out one chair from the surrounding dozens – slowly sat down to relax for a brief moment. Then he glanced up with renewed determination. "We _must_ stop whatever Tolian Soran is planning," declared the Magistrate heatedly. "That ship and crew he took with him was purposefully designed to be a sophisticated, technological manufacturing facility. Using its Omega-charged engine systems, he can literally create whatever tools he wishes to use."

"_I am curious… how do we know that the Doctor's intentions are evil?_" asked Data inquisitively.

"Well, for one thing Soran has chosen to act in secret – without first seeking the approval of this Council," the Chaplain countered, still lingering near the podium. "Everything he did leading up to his disappearance was deliberately and methodically concealed from us. Those are _not_ the actions of an honorable man. I believe a great deal of mischief is in the works."

"For awhile, Soran was fitting in with our team quite nicely," pointed out Roberts. "The Doctor prefers to work alone, so he was usually on assignment and stationed elsewhere. However, Jean-Luc Picard regularly kept in touch with him to maintain the tentative friendship that they developed following the incident with the Sentinel."

The Magistrate frowned noticeably. "Your preliminary report, Commander, also indicates that Soran abruptly quit seeing his Doctor and even stopped taking critical medications…"

"Yes," acknowledged Roberts. "Initially, Soran's personality fit in well with the Preserver culture. Accustomed to working with Starfleet, he found your laws and policy much less restrictive than the counterparts in our society. In particular he hated our Prime Directive…"

"He _likes_ to meddle in the affairs of others," the Chaplain interjected.

"I do not believe that Soran considers the things that he does to _be_ meddling," stated Roberts informatively. "Picard knows him very well. The Doctor has an extremely narcissistic, obsessive-compulsive personality. He puts his own needs above those of everyone around him, and when he perceives that he has been wronged he works very quickly to resolve the inequity. His decades-long pursuit of the Nexus probe was a direct result of crucial life events spiraling out of his control. Tormented by a reality he could not change, Soran relentlessly sought sanctuary in the only place he had ever found peace… the Nexus."

"Yes," mused the Magistrate thoughtfully. "I have read about the Doctor's obsession with our probe's pleasurable effects. He almost killed millions in his efforts to return to its clutches. That type of behavior from a man who was so angry over the cold-blooded murder of his own people does clearly violate Starfleet's Prime Directive of non-interference. In your society, what he did could also be interpreted as an act of war by the people he tried to kill."

"Traditionally Starfleet waits until societies become technologically advanced before opening up diplomatic relations with them," continued Roberts informatively. "Our first contact teams are a historically proven methodology that has worked well for us, usually minimizing culture shock. Additionally, it helps speed along the integration of new races into the Federation."

"_However, _if_ a society acquires or develops advanced technology for the sole purpose of creating weapons of mass destruction, the Prime Directive as it is normally interpreted ceases to apply_," added Data. "_In those cases, Starfleet _will_ deliberately intervene in the affairs of others. In order to prevent rogue dictators from initiating devastating global wars, there is usually no alternative. Although Starfleet's charter differs profoundly from most Preserver doctrine, we do share that much. Those whose ambitions or recklessness threaten the instability of other star systems must be managed._"

"Do not expect Soran to act rationally," cautioned the Chaplain warily. "He certainly knows we shall pursue him. I would imagine that he will already have developed a detailed tactical plan of his own before making the trip back into the distant past."

"Is your pursuit team ready?" the Magistrate asked, directly addressing Frank Roberts.

"Affirmative," the android replied. "Jean-Luc Picard and James Kirk have assembled everyone remaining on our team, including the newly oriented members from Erika Hernandez's NX-02 crew. I have already dispatched a message to Commander Ducane in Starfleet's 29th century, notifying him that our arrival aboard the _Relativity_ is imminent. We will all transport back in time, board his starship and then proceed farther back into the past to stop Soran."

"_Act quickly_," suggested the isomorphic projection of Data. "_The longer you delay, the more likely it is that Soran will deliberately set temporal traps for you. That is what I would do, were I in his position. The time you waste in cleaning them up will distract you from his primary target._"

"Temporal traps?" The Chaplain looked sincerely puzzled.

Data nodded in response. "_If he chooses to, Soran is fully capable of interfering with key incidents in our history… especially the crux events that define the backbone of our overall timeline. For example, he could create temporal paradoxes that are so complex it would require multiple stops by the _Relativity_ in the same time and place to correct them. That would force you to interact with other versions of yourselves and potentially cause you to corrupt the timeline further… perhaps even beyond repair_."

Roberts glanced rather sharply at his Data-Class counterpart. "_That_ is a _very_ diabolical idea Data. I consider it extremely fortunate for us that Soran does not have you aboard his ship to advise him further on this matter," he decided firmly.

"_He does not need me. Soran is very intelligent and experienced in the sciences_," replied Data smoothly.

"I'll mention that to Ducane," nodded Roberts.

"_When you see him, please remind Commander Ducane that he possesses the design schematics for the neural interface I used while Captain of the_ Relativity. _He can replicate a duplicate version that you can use to access subspace and coordinate your efforts with me. That is our edge – since Soran is acting based soley on his own dark initiative, the new Starfleet Protocol will likely allow me to use the subspace network's resources to assist us in the resolution of this matter_."

Chuckling lightly, the Chaplain shook his head. "Your _own_ software could lock _you_ out too?" he asked.

Data nodded firmly. "_If I should choose to abuse the resources of the network, I certainly hope so_."

The Magistrate was silent for a moment, thoughtfully evaluating their discussion before finally nodding with approval. "I think Data is correct," he declared with grim determination. "We must act quickly."

"Is there anything else you can do to assist us?" Roberts asked of Data. "After all, the resources at your disposal are virtually unlimited. If you can come up with a simpler way out of this…"

"_I will continue scanning the archives for historical and legal precedents_," promised the former starship Captain. "_If I am able to utilize the resources within subspace to take action without violating protocol, you can count on my assistance. I already have several ideas to research in greater detail_."

"I thought you might," stated Roberts crisply, not at all surprised.

"This mission will be an extremely complicated one," predicted the Chaplain. "In Starfleet space and history, _your_ laws will apply. Our own more relaxed policies used to interact with alien species can be considered as options, but ultimately the project team must decide how best to handle the situation." He focused his attention squarely on Frank Roberts. "And _you_ are the mission leader, Commander."

"We'll be fine," promised the android. "And we _will _succeed."

* * *

Alpha Quadrant, January 27, 2154, Delphic Expanse

* * *

Although the immediate vicinity surrounding the huge, metallic sphere floating in space appeared normal, the local environment was in reality under severe assault. Controlled via its internal programming by a sophisticated artificial intelligence, the metallic moon-sized device persistently and relentlessly emitted massive waves of gravimetric turbulence. According to Degra, one of the Xindi humanoids native to the area and fully acclimated to the erratic conditions within the Delphic Expanse, this particular sphere was only one of 78. All of the spheres – each of which was located at a strategically predefined location – were in constant communication with each other using a sophisticated subspace grid. Wherever the lines of gravimetric energy crossed, time and space itself rippled with significant distortion and in many cases the normal laws of physics simply ceased to apply.

_The navigational hazard these distortions presented to all space vessels traveling through the Expanse was enormous, to say the least._

Since each device also generated a protective barrier to shroud the surrounding vicinity in complete invisibility, the two starships holding in close orbit above this particular sphere currently had no way to detect any of the surrounding spatial anomalies. Until they passed back through the outer perimeter of the cloaking field and returned to the normal space beyond, their sensor systems were limited to scanning objects located solely within the outer boundary of the cloaking field. Nevertheless, both ships _should_ have instantly detected the small, wedge-shaped shuttle that suddenly appeared, seemingly from nowhere, but it too possessed its own sophisticated stealth system. Its pilot used several slight bursts from the maneuvering thrusters to stabilize the small vessel's course, holding it nearly motionless approximately one thousand meters from the sphere's outer hull.

Dr. Tolian Soran wiped perspiration away from the white, spiked hair on the upper edge of his balding forehead as he carefully watched the sphere and pair of other ships that were now fully visible on the shuttle's viewscreen. "Excellent work Ishiik," commented the Doctor idly while studying the newly updated chronometer on the helm console. "You have placed us _exactly_ where I wanted to be. Right now Captain Jonathan Archer is busy showing both Degra and Jannar his _evidence_ of Guardian deception aboard the NX-01." The edge of his lip curled upward. "It was here that Xindi and humans first began working together instead of _killing_ each other."

The humanoid seated in the pilot's chair glanced up at Soran, but there was no discernible expression on his face. Ishiik was a member of the Krell – a very rare Preserver species of alien – and someone whose body naturally absorbed electromagnetic radiation, including a majority of the visible spectrum. To Soran and other humanoids he looked like a dark, empty silhouetted outline of a heavyset male. Other than that, very little detail regarding his physical appearance was evident. Since the alien also emitted no body heat, he was virtually undetectable by infrared sensors in darkness. This very unique nature of his species was one of the reasons Soran had chosen a Krell crew to assist him in his journey back through time… they were a race with natural, biological cloaking properties.

"Are you certain it is okay to board Degra's vessel at this time?" inquired Ishiik curiously. "After all, your plan will be for naught if someone catches you there and we accidentally introduce unwanted changes into this timeframe."

"I will be _fine_," Soran grinned reassuringly with determined confidence, pointing toward the viewscreen image for emphasis. On the display, a rising plume of blue energy blazed brilliantly from a rupture atop the NX-01's saucer section. "Archer's _Enterprise_ has been heavily damaged by a recent Xindi attack. In a few minutes a weakened plasma conduit is going to fully breach, and when it does the attention of both crews will be focused solely on the resolution of that problem."

Ishiik's nod was barely discernible. "I remember the incident."

The Doctor's eyes dropped toward the sensor console and he studied the newest incoming telemetry eagerly. "I only need a few seconds to establish a link between this vessel's computer and the counterpart on Degra's bridge. Once that is done, we will be able to use the temporary connection to download a copy of the _entire_ Xindi database. Upon completion, we will possess all of the design specifications for the Xindi superweapon – one of the greatest destructive forces ever created."

"Degra's data will likely be encrypted," pointed out Ishiik.

"I really don't care," Soran responded, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. "We have a sophisticated electronics vessel to return to, one that is controlled by a fully sentient, artificial computer mind. Additionally, we can travel anywhere in time and space. Once we have the plans for the Xindi device, we also have all the time we need to decrypt the data. When we're ready, the next step will be to utilize our ship's resources and replicate a duplicate weapon of our own… a version whose power core we can enhance with Omega molecules so that it becomes virtually invulnerable to any form of counterattack."

Ishiik nodded. "I have been chosen to speak for my entire crew. We have committed ourselves to your mission and eagerly await your next command, sir," he said while nodding respectfully. His bow toward the Doctor was a deep one, causing his head to temporarily vanish against the deep black, void-like background of his body.

"Excellent," acknowledged Soran gratefully, flashing a truly menacing smile. "Once we're ready, our next task is obvious. We actively locate as many Borg as possible so that we can begin annihilating them." An evil, prolonged grin crawled across his face. "And, rest assured, I don't plan to stop until we have annihilated _all_ of them… their _entire_, perfection seeking Collective."

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_**Author's Notes:** I'm baaaaackkkkkkkk!!!!!! (And raring to go actually!) More to come, although I can't promise super rapid updates... My schedule is busy, writing admittedly a part-time hobby, and this particular storyline is expanding with each new day. However, speaking from experience I believe THAT is when this gets the most fun!_


	2. Necessary Evil

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Necessary Evil**

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Delta Quadrant, Fringe of Unknown Star System, Armageddon Day One

* * *

_The small but expensive streamlined personal shuttle tumbled slowly through space._

From his seated position within its cockpit, Chancellor Ari Veller watched a rocky, cratered planet - the outermost world in his star system – gradually receding in the distance. After a few more seconds passed the lazily rotating vessel turned far enough to obscure his view of that outer world through the cockpit window, and once again he was looking at an empty field filled with shining stars.

At first the Chancellor had kept the impulse thrusters on full, rocketing swiftly away from the second planet that had served as his people's home for countless generations. But after moving safely through the outer defense perimeter, he had voluntarily chosen to shut down the yacht's engines and content himself with a heart wrenching, final look at the familiar planets and moons of the solar system. He didn't quite know where he was going just yet, but the young, charismatic leader of one of his world's three largest sovereign nations was determined to leave while he still had an opportunity to do so.

_Nuclear war_.

The surprise and ferocity of it, along with its other countless horrors, clung to Veller's recent memories even though his home continued to fall farther behind him. It had been frustrating – even more so because his people had been so very close to finalizing a long-term agreement to pave the way for true and honest peace for years to come. Then the leaders of "the triad" of nations on his planet had suddenly grown distrustful of one another, many of them obviously envious or openly coveting the land and resources of the others. Some of them had simply been strategically angling their ambitious clutches at power toward the expansion of their own personal political base. In the end, the combination of all those flawed, imperfect beings trying to simultaneously fulfill a varying multitude of hidden agendas had doomed everyone.

_Very soon now there would be nothing left._

Within the space of a single day, one nation's leader made the astonishing, horrible decision to attack the other two… something that no one realistically believed was even conceivable. But once the first of many hellish nuclear fireballs began to blaze ominously across the planet's surface, the final die had been cast. All of the smaller nations quickly chose sides, allying themselves with one or another of the larger countries that best represented their economic interests. The conflict swiftly escalated into an all out, global nuclear war. Prior to his departure, Veller had personally watched one of the massive, rapidly expanding mushroom clouds generated by an atomic explosion gradually encompass most of the horizon in front of him. He had felt firsthand the quake-like rumbling that persisted even in the aftermath of the initial blast wave. The acrid smell from the huge explosion was still fresh in his memory, and it helped to burn that minute into his subconscious for the remainder of his days.

_A world was dying. HIS world._

Although dozens of nations on Veller's world had also harnessed the power of the atom decades before, it was in fact the lure of additional discoveries and his own government's newest experiments with anti-matter that – in the end – proved to be too much of a temptation for a population filled with emotional, ambitious individuals and their resource hungry cultures. News of the radical new approach to harnessing virtually unlimited power had spread covertly, but rapidly. It didn't take long before _everyone_ wanted to know the newest secrets… to obtain for themselves the additional technology and high-tech weaponry freshly developed by the Chancellor's regime.

_Anti-matter proved to be a complete game changer, completely destabilizing the fragile peace._

Veller's yacht was a prototype… one of the first vessels to be constructed with a warp engine powered completely by a matter/anti-matter engine. In a way, it was _the_ major catalyst that initially triggered the all-out war now raging on the besieged world still falling gradually behind him. That was just one of the reasons why the Chancellor had seized the shuttle and used it during his escape. Alone he could never have hoped to deprive those who had chosen to do evil of the design schematics, computer records and scientists they longed for so dearly. However, he had acted without hesitation and promptly seized the opportunity to take away from them the only available, functional working model.

The only question remaining now was a simple one – _where could he go?_ Veller's people had never before left their solar system… theirs was an isolated world. Over the years, his people had been visited by peaceful space faring cultures and occasionally threatened by some that were hostile. Fortunately no one had yet chosen to actually attack his planet, but the ongoing knowledge that other races existed in nearby star systems and the ongoing possibility of an alien invasion had turned the eye of all nations toward outer space for decades now. Those fears had fueled everyone's determination to work toward the development of new technology – specifically warp drive capability and the matter/anti-matter engines needed to develop even more powerful weaponry.

The Chancellor was fully aware that he could activate the new shuttle's warp engines and reach a neighboring star system within a few days… if everything worked correctly and he didn't blow himself up in the process. And yet there were many lingering, unanswered questions in his mind… specifically because there was so little information available to him as to what lay beyond.

_Which of the neighboring star systems – if any – would have populated planets?_

_Would he be welcome there?_

_Would anybody he managed to find be willing and able to spare the people and resources necessary to assist him in negotiating a lasting peace on his world?_

Emotionally exhausted from the suddenness of the unfolding chaos he had witnessed, and from his recent brush with nuclear annihilation, Veller's head fell back into the padded headrest of the cockpit chair. His mind continued to whirl with all kinds of activity as he struggled to come up with options. He considered himself to be mentally fatigued, but out of control anxiety was overwhelming his psyche as well. It didn't take long before the Chancellor's eyelids grew heavy and he fought back a desire to sleep.

At first Veller tried to stay awake, but rest was at least subconsciously an overwhelming desire for him right now – its lure offered at least a temporary escape from the stark reality of the war he had helplessly watched begin and swiftly intensify. Wiping perspiration from his forehead, the Chancellor allowed the dark, graying hair on the back of his head to press firmly against the seat cushion. Since he hadn't had any reasonable time to rest for several days now, he mercifully fell asleep almost instantly…

* * *

An unknown amount of time passed before a subconscious instinct that something was wrong aroused the Chancellor from his troubled slumber. He opened his eyes, and then they widened even farther as he noticed the unexpected presence of another ship through the cockpit window. _It was quite simply the largest man-made creation he had ever seen._

Attached to the rear of the huge vessel was a huge massive engineering sphere covered with blocky, various sized building-like structures whose fully lit windows glowed in the darkness of space like bright stars. The diameter of the sphere was stretched out in all directions beyond his ability to see, but he could see clearly the visibly rounded curve of its port side. Rising to his feet, Veller scrunched down, bending at the knees so that he could lean forward and glance out the window in an upward direction.

The alien starship's hull composed primarily of some unknown, dark metal that was difficult to see in places where internal lighting was blocked and only shadows lurked. A much slimmer metallic spine emerged from the front of the engine sphere and stretched outward seemingly forever, reaching forward for what had to easily be hundreds of kilometers. All along its top, sides and bottom more of the city-like skyscrapers were attached, each of which no doubt held a crew whose total number was impossible to calculate. _It appeared as though someone had literally constructed an entire mobile city in space_.

The Chancellor simply stared at the unknown vessel with a mixture of astonishment and awe. From the tip of the spine at the front of the vessel sprouted a series of monstrous, retractable claws. Without first meeting the people who crewed such a gigantic starship, it was impossible to make an accurate determination as to what their specific intentions might be. However, the dark metal and spider-like grappling arms painted a very sinister picture in Veller's mind, and he felt anxiety and fear begin to build within him. His planet was currently enduring an all-out nuclear war – the people struggling to restore peace on his home world were in a very vulnerable position right now. The last thing they needed was for an alien culture to show up and begin interfering even further in affairs that were already out of control. And yet they were here and there was very little the Chancellor could do to change things.

Even as Veller watched, several dozen of the "buildings" detached from the spine and began to move under their own power directly toward the star system he had so recently left behind. It was obvious that they too were vessels of a sort – smaller ships capable of connecting to the mother starship or moving via their own engine power wherever their services were needed. The Chancellor's eyes drifted briefly down toward the helm controls in front of him and he briefly weighed the consequences of activating his yacht's warp engines and fleeing. Almost immediately he discarded the notion as foolish – it was truly doubtful he could ever hope to outrun someone who could build a vessel like the one floating monstrously in front of him. Mentally he remembered that the prototypes warp engine was as yet completely untested, and Veller was no expert at warp theory. If he activated the shuttle's warp drive, the current intermix formula would either work or he would blow himself to kingdom come.

_Unexpectedly his body began to tingle. He held up a hand, noticing that the flesh was dissolving away in a sparkling surge of glowing green energy_.

* * *

Delta Quadrant, Aboard the Preserver Planet-Pusher _Coliseum_, Armageddon Day Two

* * *

Boarding the alien starship was only the first step in his new life. The next few days would turn out to be a rapid, chaotic blur of non-stop activity for Chancellor Veller. Years later, he would look back on this particular time in his life and remember the rapid fire chain of events in much greater detail. However, from the moment he materialized on board the Preserver vessel _Coliseum_ his entire view of the universe changed substantially. Given the size of the alien presence and the power of the society that it represented, things naturally happened way too quickly and threatened to further overwhelm his already elevated emotional state.

The crew members running the large vessel were the first surprise he encountered. Although they were obviously very experienced at their duties, they were also undeniably aliens who had traveled from somewhere very far away. Their physical appearance alone was somewhat disconcerting… they were tall and stick-like – apparently a plant-based life form. Each alien had a reasonably sized central "trunk" of a body with dark brown, bark-like skin. Some of them had four to five branch-like appendages that functioned as arms and legs while others possessed more than a dozen. At first glance many would misjudge these creatures, and yet Veller could tell immediately that they were a highly intelligent, sentient life form. Judging them solely on his personal speculation, he felt that they would be most comfortable living within a forest's woods and trees.

The mission Commander, in stark contrast, appeared at first glance to be quite humanoid. He introduced himself as the Scholar, warmly shaking hands with the anxiety-stricken Chancellor and reassuring him that everything would eventually work out for the better. The Preservers, he explained, were a mixture of races dedicated to preserving life in all of its forms wherever it existed. In fact, the Scholar continued by way of explanation, his crew had _already_ intervened on Veller's home world and put a stop to the abrupt, catastrophic war taking place there.

At first the Chancellor was skeptical, hesitant to believe that even someone like the Scholar could utilize these space-based resources so thoroughly on a global scale. And yet even as they spoke, the strange alien somehow managed to monitor everything that was taking place aboard the huge vessel and elsewhere. Throughout their conversation he barked out occasional orders and made full use of a strange, electronic headset that he wore like a partial helmet. Using the device – which the Preserver referred to as a RI-CAD – obviously allowed him to coordinate everything, even events taking place elsewhere at distant locations.

"We cannot obviously save everyone who requires our assistance," the Scholar informed him grimly, tugging at his silver toned jacket and wrapping its folds more snugly around the belt near the waist on the charcoal slacks he wore. "But we intervene whenever we can. Fortunately, our historians were monitoring the timeline in this vicinity and predicted the outbreak of war on your planet. I was reassigned immediately, and ordered to bring the _Coliseum_ here to restore the peace."

"_How_ can you do that?" wondered Veller inquisitively, managing to find his own voice once again after listening to the other at length. Slowly but surely his poise and confidence as a statesman was gradually returning. Even so, all one had to do was study his expression to observe that the Chancellor was still irrevocably shaken by recent events.

"Our technology is extremely sophisticated," the Scholar pointed out proudly. "The _Coliseum_ is a planet pusher… a vessel capable of refueling stars and altering the orbit of both planets and moons in order to make them habitable," the tall, muscular humanoid continued while brushing back long locks of wavy brown hair from his brow. "This crew in particular is extremely skilled and experienced, allowing them to easily implement the changes needed to avert further war."

"What if we don't approve of your changes?" asked the Chancellor curiously. "Suppose that we choose to find our _own_ answers to our _own_ problems." His stance was confident, but the bigger, muscular stature of the Preserver was still intimidating as he towered above the smaller man at a height of more than six and a half feet.

The Scholar harrumphed with mild amusement, a response to a very serious situation that only served to stoke his guest's anger. "In another few days, there wouldn't have been anyone left _alive_ on your world to search for those answers," he snapped with obvious disapproval. "_No_ Chancellor Veller, I'm afraid that your opportunity to discover your own solutions has long since passed. Once we choose to intervene in this manner, there is no going back. The Preservers are going to _save_ your world and prevent all further violence. We will transform your society into something new, and your people will be significantly better off because of the changes that we make. The survivors will live… and this time they will do so much more peacefully."

Veller studied the hard lines defining the Scholar's jaw. "How can you possibly accomplish all of that?" he asked, clearly puzzled. "Even if you have somehow stopped the bombs from exploding, there are _billions_ of people on my home world who still hate each other. Most will have learned their lesson, but many will continue to aggressively pursue violence."

Confidently the Scholar smiled wryly. "I only need _one_ secured room in one of your cities," he predicted. "In it my crew will install a sophisticated, medium-sized central computer. And once they bring this new machine online a much more peaceful atmosphere will be restored to your planet."

For the duration of their initial meeting, the Scholar had transported the newcomer directly to a small conference room with a floor, ceiling and walls of pure white. In front of them rested a small, rectangular table and four chairs, although the two of them so far had preferred to stand. "I will believe it when I see it," replied Chancellor Veller sternly, folding his arms in front of him. He continued to ignore the sparse furniture behind him, declining to sit as he focused his attention directly on the Preserver.

"Really," snapped the Scholar snidely upon studying Veller's demeanor and his continued, defiant stance. "Behold you world as it _now_ exists," he commented sharply, waving his right hand in front of him. The entire far wall shimmered as an image appeared on its surface, projected from an unknown source. The familiar stars of space drifted near the edges of the makeshift viewscreen, and in its center was the familiar globe that was Veller's home world.

_Or more accurately, what was left of it._

Ari Veller stared at the unexpected live feed in utter shock, noticing that the scene had changed only slightly from his last look before leaving orbit in his shuttle. Although he could no longer see the erratic fuel residue of missiles completing their journey upward and arcing back toward their assigned targets on the planet, hundreds of charred, smoldering blast points were now clearly visible scattered across the larger continents. On a world where ten billion people had lived in relative peace only days before, now there was only death and destruction as far as the eye could see. In areas where multiple bombs had detonated near enough to each other, the blast points were much tougher to discern. It was at those particular spots that the atmosphere was most clouded by dark, roiling whirlpools of residual smoke and radiation that would now be a permanent part of the planetary atmosphere for at least a generation. He was witnessing a nuclear holocaust of the highest order, one that had somehow been halted before it could totally eradicate everything still living on the planet.

"You can _fix_ this?" gasped Veller as he waved both hands with despair at the picture of the horrifying aftereffects of global nuclear war. Tears glinted at the corners of his eyes, highlighted by the room's moderate illumination. "_How?_"

The Scholar shook his head negatively. "No one can completely _fix_ this kind of situation," he replied tersely. "For a while, my people would use time travel in situations such as this one. But if I chose to utilize that option, your people would never _learn_ from this mistake. Our historical data conclusively proves this… we would only postpone the inevitable war, which is why my people worked long and hard for many centuries. We committed ourselves to discovering a better way."

Veller's face was ashen, his concern obvious by his expression. "What would you have us do then?" he asked. "Even after _this_, the leaders of the countries on my world will be unable to let go of their distrust and hatred. If anything, those emotions will now be much _stronger_ after losing so many loved ones."

"We will collect all who survive and relocate them to a place of safety," promised the Scholar. "This vessel has equipment capable of removing most of the harsh radiation and pollutants from your atmosphere – it is an enhanced, powerful terra forming process that takes us only a few days. We will create a single, unified society for all of your people, and then we will use the computer I spoke of to limit their emotions."

Although Veller was still transfixed by the image of his world burning on the makeshift viewscreen, he still managed to take a few seconds to glance skeptically behind him. "Limit emotions?"

"Trust me," continued the Preserver leader. "My people have done this before… many times in fact. We have assisted the governments on _hundreds_ of worlds in averting catastrophic wars such as this one. Yours will be no different. At first the emotions of your people will be severely restricted, but gradually over time the computer's telepathic effects on them will lessen. Positive emotions will be emphasized, allowing everyone to overcome their darker nature."

'Why must you do this… _why_ must you control minds?"

"Because murderous hatred, once merged with a psyche, is not something easily disposed of," countered the Scholar. "It is an emotion not unlike acid, in fact. Hate often functions much like that destructive, physical substance in the sense that it psychologically destroys the mind in which it is stored as easily as the targets it is directed at." He tapped his right temple with the tip of a forefinger for emphasis. "The computer that we use contains biological components capable of interacting telepathically with a humanoid mind. If we repress the strongest, most negative emotions of those who have survived, we can gradually dissipate those destructive feelings over the passage of years. Your society will not recover immediately, but its people _will_ survive to live more tranquil, peaceful lives."

Tearing his gaze away from the picture of the still burning, wounded planet that had once been his home, Veller glanced down more than a little reluctantly at the tips of his shoes. "I cannot _believe_ we have been reduced to this," he said softly in shame.

The Scholar shrugged indifferently and tapped the RI-CAD headset he wore, speaking to someone who was obviously located elsewhere. "Begin the activation sequence," he stated commandingly. "Proceed on schedule. The authorization password for this project is _Landru 10278_."

* * *

Delta Quadrant, Chancellor Veller's Home World, Armageddon Day Four

* * *

It did not take long for Ari Veller to choose a new 'capital' for his nation. He selected a township only a few hundred kilometers distant from the city that had once served as the primary center of government for his nation. Since all of the largest cities had been completely obliterated during the initial assault, the undamaged, medium-sized municipality of Kopal was an obvious pick. In its midst there was a branch of government buildings that he could utilize, along with plenty of workable farmland surrounding it for long term development. Eventually, there would be farms and even smaller towns again. Perhaps the larger, more advanced cities that had once lit up the skylines of his world would not exist again for many years, but there was now at least some hope when only days previously there had been none.

All Veller had to do was look up into the sky to see that the restoration of his world was well underway. Already a majority of the smoke and radioactive residue that had initially permeated the planet's atmosphere had cleared significantly. Thousands of various sized 'breakaway' vessels from the _Coliseum_ had detached from the mother vessel and begun cleanup duties on all continents. For Veller, witnessing the speed and efficiency with which the plant-based aliens cleaned his planet was truly an amazing sight. He glanced out a second story window from an office in the city's central, government building and watched the blocky, dark-hulled ships crisscross the sky. Only days before, that same horizon had been filled with his planet's own, commercial air traffic.

He had chosen to remain in the office because the initial, unexpected sight of his people being 'absorbed' into 'the Body' had shocked and terrified him. The centralized supercomputer that the Scholar had spoken of was indeed highly advanced and fully capable of spreading a very powerful, telepathic 'broadcast' of some sort across the land. So far the limited survivors of his nation had all been transported into Kopal, and currently each and every one of them was undergoing a coerced orientation process that directly connected their humanoid consciousness to the computer's operating system. They emerged from the 'absorption chamber' walking and talking like people whose entire emotional free will had been stripped away.

"Peace and joy be with you," the first man to undergo the process had said happily to Veller. "Blessed be Landru, for he protects and nurtures the Body." Then he had simply walked out into the street, smiling sweetly and appearing to enjoy the fresh splash of morning sunshine on his skin.

But most frightening of all were these new terms that the Chancellor continued to hear over and over. It was like they had been inserted overnight directly into the vocabulary of his people. The reality of the developing, out of control situation on his world sharpened his thoughts with an intense clarity, snapping Ari Veller's exhausted consciousness into focus like a proverbial bucket of cold water. All of his internal instincts warned him that something awful was in fact happening… something he was powerless to stop.

_Absorption. The Body. Landru. _

_What did it all mean?_

At first Ari had tried to argue with the Scholar, speaking in support of a delay so that he could learn more about what was being done to his world. However, the charismatic alien whom he had known for three short days was completely unwilling to compromise or delay his plans even a little. "My crew and I are on an extremely tight schedule, Chancellor," the Preserver had told him firmly in response. "I would remind you that your people _chose_ to let their emotions control their intelligence. They _chose_ to build larger and larger weapons of mass destruction and they also _chose_ the date that their world as they once knew it died. I made significant adjustments to my list of priorities in order to save you, so it would be unreasonable for you to try and dictate the terms of my help."

"_What are you doing to my people?_" Ari had snarled heatedly.

The Scholar had whirled angrily in response to face him upon hearing the comment, pointing an index finger sharply at the Chancellor. "If you _ever_ speak to me in that manner again, you will _also_ undergo absorption," he declared with a certainty and tone of voice that made Veller's blood run cold. "As things stand, I plan for your people to be Lawgivers… a very privileged position within this new society. But that too can easily change if you decide to test my patience."

_Lawgivers?_

What dark meaning was hidden behind this _additional_ new term?

Unable to deal with the emotions building within, Veller had chosen to leave the presence of the other. Eventually he located a temporary place of sanctuary in a vacant office. The situation was maddening… all he could do was wait. It was his _only_ option. While he impatiently did so, more of his nation's citizens had continued to pass by in the hallway outside, returning to the ground floor and eventually moving outdoors. From his vantage point at the window, Veller watched as the people were subsequently organized into groups by the enigmatic, stick-like aliens. All of them somehow managed to communicate with each other non-verbally while handing out dark brown robes to the absorbed citizenry. Each of the converted was also given a long, hollow metallic staff to hold.

Ari's curiosity got the better of him, and he stepped over to the office doorway and spoke to several more of his people. It was immediately obvious to him that they too had recently undergone the frightening absorption process that linked mind with computer. "Peace to you, friend Veller," he heard repeatedly, or something remarkably similar to it. "Blessed be the Body. The glory of Landru watches over us all and protects us from harm."

Veller continued to wait, infuriated, as hundreds of people were shuffled in small parties to the chambers adjoining the central room dedicated to the new supercomputer. Many of them were tired, hungry, and downright angry about the recent outbreak of war and the homelessness and helplessness that followed. Unfortunately, the Scholar's crew members were extremely tall and very strong. They also possessed force shield technology that allowed them to keep the humanoids at bay, gradually herding them like cattle toward their final destination on the second floor.

Occasionally, one or more of the angrier citizens would refuse to calm down or obey instructions. Many of those who were resisted did so by repeatedly throwing themselves at the aliens or picking up debris to use as makeshift clubs. And each time an incident occurred, those that chose to disobey would immediately vanish in an emerald blaze of shimmering transporter energy. Veller could only imagine where these people were being taken to or what was being done to them. Upset or not, all of them were still victims suffering from the shock and lingering aftereffects of planetary war. What he continued to witness from the office made the Chancellor feel ill deep down in his gut.

_In four short days, our entire planet's population has been reduced to THIS?_

_Where will we be in a week? In two?_

The seemingly endless waiting finally got to him. Veller's anger welled up inside him to the point where he couldn't stand it any longer and he moved toward the door. _This_ time he would confront the Scholar more forcefully… _this_ time he would make the alien listen to him. He strode furiously out into the corridor and turned left, heading toward an intersecting hallway that would take him to the computer chamber. The expression on his face was dark and filled with growing rage, but the emotions lessened considerably upon seeing the Preserver already in the corridor walking toward _him_.

"_What_ are you doing to my people?" Ari asked fiercely, holding back his surging emotion.

"They are in no danger," stated the Scholar reassuringly in response, although his demeanor still came across significantly more arrogant than sincere. "I assure you, they will all be safe until the day is reached when they can be released from computer control." He waved a hand at several peaceful looking individuals who smiled weakly as they walked contentedly past the pair. "_None_ of those absorbed are capable of _any_ further violence except under a very tightly controlled timing process. They will return this society to a simpler time, to the beginning of its industrialization period. Your people will rebuild and live in a pre-technological era – but only after everyone on this planet has relocated to _your_ nation and undergone absorption. Once fully assembled, the Body will be under your control. They will obey your instructions, all of which will easily be transmitted to them using the computer."

"Who is he?" wondered Veller doubtfully. "Who is this _Landru_ that they now speak of?"

The Scholar spread his arms wide and put a comforting arm around Ari's shoulder. "I never met the man personally," he admitted, scratching his chin thoughtfully with the fingers of his left hand. "Before Landru, we used to attempt correction of wars like this one through the use of time travel. After all, we are from your distant future so it is very easy for us to move back in time a little bit further. During a crisis, my people would go back and prevent the incident that triggered global, destructive violence. Until Landru, it seemed that this was our only option."

"Why wouldn't that work? If the Preservers do indeed possess the power to time travel, it sounds like an extremely workable solution."

"And yet no matter how much we negotiated, no matter how many diplomats we left behind, no matter how much we worked to avert certain catastrophe it always seemed that the vast majority of societies would – in the end – choose to start that war again. Even worse, time travel was only available to us as an option the _first_ time war broke out on someone's planet; after that it was no longer a realistic solution. Not unless, on the second attempt, we were willing to also negotiate with an earlier version of _ourselves_." He shrugged his broad shoulders in obvious frustration. "I hope you can appreciate the complexity of our intervening in such a manner, and the broader implications to other nearby inhabited star systems who could potentially feel the consequences of our temporal meddling."

"Until I met you, I never even realized time travel was _possible_," replied Veller crisply. "And that's not an answer to my question. "Who is Landru?" he repeated emphatically.

The Scholar studied the man in front of him with a bit more respect this time. "Landru was a philosopher who lived on a world whose population devastated most of its surface area dozens of centuries ago," he continued. "Only a few were left to rebuild, and one of our representatives approached him much like I am interacting with you. Landru speculated that the technology and weapons constructed by his people, along with the ambition that drove people to covet them, was the major catalyst of his war."

"Ultimately it is the _people_ themselves who use or abuse technology," stated Veller. "You have already pointed out that some of us made a conscious _choice_ to attack others. Any object or device is not even truly a weapon until it is used by someone for violent purposes."

"Excellently stated," agreed the Scholar with a firm nod of his head. "What Landru didn't understand was the emotional psyche of the humanoid mind. Inbred, aggressive tendencies can be reduced in a population, but only over time and with a great deal of patience."

"So your people started enslaving whole populations to the electronic whims of a computer?" Ari's disdain for the procedures he had witnessed over the past two days was glaringly obvious by his dramatic choice of words and expression of disapproval.

"To you and me the process does appear to be an extreme response," the Preserver acknowledged reluctantly. "And yet the events that took place here were equally extreme." He held the thumb and finger of his right hand approximately one centimeter apart. "Your society was _this_ close to completely annihilating itself… as Landru's people did. You alone would have survived because you remained rational and had the means to escape."

Ari Veller's cheeks flushed with shame and disgrace. "I chose to run away," he pointed out.

"After meeting Landru, our greatest scientists worked with him to develop the hardware and software needed to restore order to a chaotic, out of control population. The cycle is a very long one, but in the end it is also a proven strategy. Statistically, the success rate of reforming people on worlds that would otherwise have been annihilated has risen substantially in our history. _This_ process has traditionally proven to be our best strategy."

Veller watched another citizen walk by. "Really?" he said more than a little speculatively. "With all your science and technology, your _best_ option is to control people permanently like robots… to completely purge all of the emotions that make them who they are?"

"No, friend Veller," replied the Scholar with a wry smile. "The computer does not purge the emotions in these people… it _represses_ them."

Placing his hands firmly on his hips, Ari shrugged in puzzlement. "What's the difference?" he asked.

"The difference in this case is crucial… it is _why_ we do things this way."

They had been walking while conversing, and the Scholar now waved Chancellor Veller around a corner. Ahead they could see the large doors leading into the spacious room that had been reserved as the new "absorption chamber". Even as he watched, they swung open and a dozen or so newly converted citizens emerged. All of them wore silly smiles and acted as if they no longer had a care in the world… as if their cities and families still awaited them when they returned outdoors.

Veller wanted to hear more, so he let them pass without speaking to them. "Please," he requested, refocusing his attention on the humanoid next to him. "Continue."

"The computer program operates using a very specific, timed cycle," the Scholar replied informatively. "If they are not properly dealt with, repressed emotions within a humanoid mind will eventually find a way to free themselves. As you know, this kind of behavior takes many forms in most advanced societies. The inability to cope with strong emotions often leads to substance abuse, crime, broken families, compulsive behaviors… the list is endless."

"Does this computer of yours perhaps _remove_ those repressed emotions?"

"No," declared the Scholar, shaking his head negatively. "The stronger, more negative feelings can only be decreased over a long period of time. For a preprogrammed duration, your people will remain in a peaceful, tranquil state that is carefully controlled and monitored by our computer. On the last day of each week, the computer temporarily frees the population – releasing them into a frenzied, uncontrolled outpouring of emotion. This 'festival' of release lasts precisely half a day, and allows the population to expend all of the pent up emotion accumulated during the previous days. During this period of civil unrest there are usually some minor injuries and occasionally a few fatalities, but far fewer than would fall victim to crime in a traditional civilization. Once the cycle completes, the people return to their previous tranquil state and to a productive, slower lifestyle until another week has passed."

_Festival._

_Another word to add to the growing list of cryptic terminology_.

"That doesn't sound like a plan to rebuild my people's cities," Veller countered. "It sounds like a long term _hell_ from which there is little hope of escape."

"You can think what you like," chuckled the Scholar with obvious amusement at the other's assessment. "I have statistics to back up my claim. Over time, each 'festival' lessens slightly in intensity and gradually reduces the elevated levels of emotion and anxiety common to your culture. It does take time, sometimes even centuries, but eventually your descendants will grow into adulthood with the more aggressive traits eliminated completely from their psyche."

"What if I want another option?"

The Scholar laughed uproariously. "_I_ have a schedule to keep and other duties to perform," he snapped snidely. "When I leave here, you are perfectly welcome to shut off our computer if you wish to. We will not stop you," he promised.

"And if I do?"

"Then, Chancellor Veller, your people will rebuild their society as it was and use their bombs and missiles to destroy each other again… this time permanently because we will not waste our time intervening again. It is a statistical certainty in over eighty-two percent of the cases studied. Once there is an outbreak of global war on a technologically advanced world where everyone involved knows that _total_ destruction is certain, your people have proven themselves to be far too aggressive to ever live in a stable environment. The temptation to use weapons of mass destruction is too great."

"What gives you the _right_ to interfere in our affairs?" demanded Ari, knowing his demeanor was confrontational. He had been through nuclear hell, however, and his own emotions were still occasionally getting the best of him even though his instincts deemed it unwise to provoke the Preserver.

The Scholar laughed again, derisively this time. "Are you _glad_ that I did?"

For the first time during this latest conversation, Veller hesitated uncertainly. If the _Coliseum_ had not shown up when it did, and if its crew had not stopped the war…

_Nuclear annihilation… of everyone. It had almost happened!_

Ari took a deep breath, declining to answer the question. "Why did you keep the name Landru?" he asked, changing the subject more so out of embarrassment than curiosity. "Why do you make our people praise him like some sort of god? Our culture already has a God that it prays to, and a multitude of varying religions. Why can't we retain who _we_ are instead of mirroring the ways of aliens?"

"Your world does have many cultures and a vast variety of religious beliefs," agreed the Scholar. "I have studied up on you in our archives. And what did your society's beliefs lead it to…?" he trailed off softly, pausing. "Don't you agree that it is best if this time your people try something completely new?"

_Nuclear annihilation_.

Again, it was a certainty that Ari Veller could not deny.

"The focus on Landru has proven to be a crucial tool in redirecting the focus of a converted population," noted the Preserver with a confident smile. The irises of his eyes were dark black, making it impossible to discern the size of his pupils… if he even _had_ pupils. His gaze was intense, focused, and more than a little intimidating. "A love of Landru allows them to focus mentally on something positive, something that makes them feel safe, secure, and cared for as they interact, build homes, and go about their daily lives. It is also our way of paying tribute to the man who originally suggested this alternative." His grin suddenly seemed cruel. "If you like, I can have my crew reprogram the computer. We can order your people to instead praise the name of _Veller_."

"No, that will not be necessary," decided Ari immediately, feeling suddenly dizzy and warm. A wave of anxiety swept rapidly through his mind as he realized his completely vulnerable position… he was absolutely helpless and unable to combat the whims of this man and his crew. For a moment he paused to think, his thoughts whirling chaotically. Despite his best effort, he was unable to focus.

"Create for me a roster listing the names of your best scientists and doctors," suggested the Scholar casually. "My crew will teach them how to maintain our computer and periodically adjust its operational parameters. You or your descendants who remain free of the absorption process can decide when the time arrives to release your people. I will leave the fate of your world as I found it… in your own hands."

"I… I have many misgivings," Ari stated honestly. "What if something happens to us?"

"The computer allows you to impress your own personality into it, should the need arise."

Chancellor Veller was out of questions and simply said nothing for quite some time. He wasn't certain which bothered him more – the arrogance of this man who called himself a Preserver or the fact that his plan was probably Ari's only hope.

* * *

Somewhere in Subspace

* * *

_For some time now, Data had been utilizing the subspace network's ability to peer back in time. Very carefully he studied the Scholar's interaction with Ari Veller as they set up a society on the Chancellor's home world that was strikingly similar to another that Starfleet had originally encountered on a planet in its 23rd century. The android's lightning quick positronic brain had already accessed and reviewed the relevant information stored in the Preserver archives. At the time, Captain Kirk's mission had initially been to locate survivors from the starship _Archon_. In the end, his contact team had freed an entire civilization from the very same type of computer enslavement that had apparently been taking place on countless other worlds. How many societies had been subjected to this incredibly invasive procedure? That particular statistic was suspiciously missing from the data files._

And the incredible irony was that it was the _Preservers_ who had once endorsed this type of thing.

And unlike Starfleet, they DID interfere whenever they wished to… and quite obviously there had been devastating consequences on many occasions. None, though, quite like this one.

_The emotional subroutines built into the neural net of his original body had all been retained during his transfer into subspace, and this allowed Data to feel a great deal of surprise as he witnessed firsthand the hastily aborted nuclear war. During his time as Captain of the _Relativity_ he had often utilized its technology to observe many historical events – that had been a crucial part of his job. The 29th century Starfleet mission was not only to protect the timeline from unwanted tampering, but also to allow historians to observe whatever events in history that they chose to. As long as the proper people followed protocol, no one would interfere with their educational experiences._

_The surprise that Data 'felt' was an emotional reaction directly triggered by the unexpected discovery of another Landru-like supercomputer. This revelation alone was quite astonishing because his efforts had initially been focused on surveying Delta Quadrant history in order to discover the origin of the Borg. He had done so because his colleague Frank Roberts had informed him that Jean-Luc Picard was utterly convinced that the Borg would be Soran's primary target – that he would be unable to resist the opportunity to travel back in time to try and save his family and planet from their destructive assimilation process. In order to learn more about the Borg and hopefully come up with new options to thwart Soran's obvious looming confrontation with them, Data naturally wanted to know as much about the Collective as possible. An intensive close-up study of the Borg and their tactics just might allow him to provide additional expertise that could be helpful to Roberts._

_Double-checking the time and location he had chosen to observe, Data accessed the virtually unlimited library files at his disposal and confirmed his find. Everything he had already learned during his study of the Borg and their long history pointed like a huge arrow directly toward this particular planet in this particular time. Chancellor Veller's home world was quite obviously the original location from which the mechanized, cybernetic Collective had originally sprung into being. And unless something additionally unexpected surfaced, it also appeared as though the Preservers – the Scholar in particular – were guilty of much more than simply interfering with the affairs of other races and then failing to check up on them. The Scholar had hooked the minds of virtually everyone who survived the brief war on that planet into one of his computers. Then he had left and never bothered to return._

In doing so, the Scholar had inadvertently created the Borg.

_To anyone else, the realization would have been yet another astonishing breakthrough. However, after locating Ari Veller's star system and concluding that it was indeed the birthplace of the Collective, Data had immediately accessed the classified, encrypted Preserver archives and scanned everything recorded about the Scholar. Unsurprisingly, the man had been an unpredictable rogue with powerful friends. He had proven to be as much of a wild card as the Sentinel had been… a dark knight who frequently embarrassed the Preserver leaders with his aberrant behavior and radical ideas. Eventually, he too had been driven away from his position on the Council of Elders and was never heard from again. His ideas, though, had lingered on for centuries and Data was not at all startled to learn that the Scholar had been one of the early Preserver 'heroes' whom the Sentinel had looked up to._

_Data was reasonably certain that somewhere down the road, Ari Veller would begin to tamper with the computer that the Scholar would leave in charge of monitoring his people. And then something would go tragically wrong, or perhaps someone would even _deliberately_ link all those minds together. Once that was done the initial Borg Collective would form and rapidly begin expanding itself across the Delta Quadrant for centuries to come. Somewhat ironically, Data noted with interest, the recessive gene mutation that always seemed to immunize some humanoids from the Landru-style computer's 'absorption' process would continue to exist undetected. It was a crucial design flaw that would be permanently retained by the Collective until it was discovered in the 24th century. At that time it would prove to be the very same biological defect responsible for the creation of Unimatrix Zero._

_For now, Data concluded his review of history and his ongoing research into the vast library serving as the Preserver's electronically stored data archives. And yet he planned to return soon to study this situation in much greater detail. For now he had learned all he needed to know._

Astonishingly, it was the Preservers, through their representative known only as the Scholar, who were in fact responsible for creating the Borg.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:** I put up the links to some photos that relate to this story on my profile page. They're nothing really amazing, just some pretty great shots of the various Borg ships and the Xindi superweapon. If you're interested, check them out!_


	3. Nor The Battle To The Strong

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity

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**_1._**_ "It's been a long road getting from there to here, it's been a long time but my time is finally near… and I can feel the change in the wind right now, nothing's in my way… and they're not gonna hold me down no more, no they're not gonna hold me down._

_"'Cause I've got faith of the heart, I'm going where my heart will take me… I've got faith to believe I can do anything… I've got strength of the soul and no one's gonna bend or break me… I can reach any star… I've got faith, I've got faith, faith of the heart!"_

-- Russell Watson, "Where My Heart Will Take Me" theme from _"Enterprise"

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**_2._** "_I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to the intelligent, nor yet favor to men of knowledge; but time and chance happeneth to them all."_

-- Ecclesiastes, Chapter 9, Verse 11

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**_3._**_ "It takes courage to look inside yourself, and more courage to write it for other people to see."_

-- Benjamin Sisko to his son Jake

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**Nor The Battle To The Strong

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Planet Risa, Temtibi Lagoon Resort, June 29, 2158

* * *

Ensign Hoshi Sato leaned back in the wide-backed wicker chair she was sitting in and took a brief moment to admire the stunning red and violet sunset that continued to swell along the partially clouded horizon. She brushed aside a lock of her dark black hair and breathed in the surrounding fresh air with a contented, relaxed sigh. A contented smile flashed across her attractive, Asian features. Across from her sat Professor Max Carrigan – a very old and dear friend whom Hoshi had worked with many times in the past during her previous career on Earth.

Those days now seemed so long ago to her – they were already years in her past. Hoshi's studies under the Professor's tutelage had occurred many years before Captain Jonathan Archer had recruited her to serve as a communications specialist aboard _Enterprise_. And since leaving Earth, Hoshi had been through one adventure after another. Carrigan, by contrast, had continued teaching for a few more years and then officially retired before moving to Risa. As Sato had since learned, the Professor didn't regret his decision to leave Earth one bit. In fact, the beautiful planet held its appeal for her as well.

"I absolutely _love_ spending time on this planet," Hoshi commented with a contented sigh. "It's too bad I'm out in space most of the time these days… I'm too far away to take my shore leave here."

"Perhaps you too will someday retire in one of Risa's vacation communities," suggested the Professor with a dry smile, raising a glass in a partial toast. "After all, representatives from many different alien species pass through here. I have learned a great deal about alien languages since those first few days when I decided to purchase a villa along this beach."

"I practically begged Captain Archer to let me visit you once I heard that _Enterprise_ would be stopping by," she told the Professor with a light laugh. "And the best part of it all is that we'll be here for another week – unless we receive emergency orders diverting us elsewhere, that is."

As usual, Max Carrigan's eyes were brown and friendly, and their twinkling sparkle instantly hinted at the kind-hearted nature of the soul lurking beneath the wrinkled skin and white hair. "I must admit, it's been wonderful to see a former colleague once again," the Professor admitted. "You were always such a skilled linguist on Earth and a speedy learner. It's been wonderful to have a former student stop by and discuss syntax again." He held up a pitcher filled with a red, berry-flavored beverage. Half melted ice cubes clinked against the frosted glass as he did so. "Would you like some more of my trademark tropical punch?" he asked curiously.

Hoshi shook her head instantly, putting a hand protectively over the top of her nearly empty glass. "No thank you Professor," she replied firmly, smiling despite herself. "I'd better not. That's an excellent, fruity mix you've come up with… but it's got a noticeable kick to it. The evening is passing and I have to walk all the way back to the hotel yet. I think Captain Archer would grow concerned if he noticed me stumbling back to my room."

Max tilted his head to one side with intrigue. "Would you like me to accompany you?"

"That won't be necessary," Hoshi decided, politely declining the offer from one of her favorite mentors. She moved her gaze away from the now fading sunset and directed her attention toward the well lit beach and the incoming waves that casually massaged the sandy shore before receding briefly. "A walk along the beach in the evening air is just what the Doctor ordered." She flashed him an appreciative smile. "I've taken many walks already, and it's a lot of fun listening to the conversations as people pass by. I'm getting faster and faster at pinpointing each person's species based simply on what I hear."

A thin male servant dressed primarily in plain white clothes entered and began removing plates, silverware, and some of the glasses. He cast a last look at the table and then retreated back toward the kitchen with his captured dinnerware, leaving behind the cocktail pitcher and the two glasses. "There have been a great deal of robberies on Risa, of late," Professor Carrigan pointed out cautiously. "Burglaries – even in protected areas – are becoming more and more common."

"That's one of the reasons why my ship chose to stop here at this particular time," nodded Hoshi in affirmation. "Starfleet has been working with governments in the vicinity for quite some time now. We're laying traps for the thieves, and sooner or later they're going to pick a fight they can't win." She chuckled. "It's turned out to be a nice assignment, because we also get a working vacation as part of the deal. Everyone knows that Risa's growing reputation as a protected tourist site must be protected. So three other governments are working with us, and we all take turns patrolling the area."

The Professor stretched his arms and yawned while rising to his full six foot two inch height. "I'd still feel better if I walked back with you," he responded in a protective tone of voice. "I could use the fresh air," he added truthfully.

Hoshi responded by opening the small blue duffle bag she had with her. Inside was a stack of data padds that she had chosen – most of which contained alien languages with which she continued to have ongoing difficulties. Since she also liked to see the design of printed letters in the languages she studied, there were also a couple of large, old fashioned printed dictionaries. Smiling teasingly, the pretty young Ensign reached into the bag and pulled out a dark gray phase pistol. Several bright spots glittered along the top of its metallic surface in the last of the fading sunlight. "_I'm_ one of the traps," she informed the startled Professor with a chuckle.

Max Carrigan raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I thought weapons on Risa were prohibited by law."

Shrugging indifferently, Hoshi put the weapon back in her duffel bag. "We're coordinating our efforts with planet-side security. They've granted waivers to certain authorized personnel, allowing us to supplement their normal patrol patterns while masquerading as civilians."

"Be careful, Hoshi Sato," the Professor told her sternly. "I remain quite fond of you. If you are indeed going to be here another week, I hope that you will join me for an evening meal at least one more time before returning to space. I find myself mesmerized by the various languages you've run across during your travels, and am intensely curious to learn more about them."

"I think that can be arranged, Professor," decided the young Ensign. "You're an excellent cook. And I _expect_ you to forward those recipes you promised to me… our Chef on _Enterprise_ is always looking for new dishes to experiment with." Flashing him one last curvy-lipped smile, the attractive communications officer turned and walked slowly away from the Professor's wooden deck, heading in the general direction of the beach.

* * *

It didn't take long for Hoshi to regret her decision to return to the hotel alone. From the moment she left the fully-lit area surrounding the Professor's backyard, it was apparent that someone was following her. Off to her left the white foam from the evening tide continued to roll in, softly washing up onto the sand and then slowly receding back into the sea. Against the thin, red smear on the horizon that was all that remained of the sunset, she could see the diving silhouettes of several birds searching for an evening snack. To her right were several groves of tall, thin palm trees intermingled with plenty of shrubbery in which to hide. And from the unmistakable sound of rustling leaves, someone unknown was indeed using them for concealment. The person or persons hiding there were making just enough noise to let her know that she was not alone.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Hoshi noticed the leaves from one of the bushes still rustling followed almost immediately by the brief flitting of a shadow moving between two trees. "Hello?" she called out casually, trying not to sound frightened. In reality she was very frightened, because someone was clearly stalking her amidst the growing darkness. Whoever had chosen to remain hidden was clearly interested in more than simple robbery, since they were seizing the opportunity to try and terrorize her. Reaching into her still-open duffel bag, the _Enterprise_ Ensign picked up her handheld scanner and set it on top of the large books inside. Activating the small device, she immediately detected a pair of humanoid life forms lurking nearby. _There were TWO of them_.

Calling on her Starfleet training and experience to control her fear, Hoshi called out another challenge to whoever was hiding. Upon receiving no response, she sighed with frustration and then pulled a communicator out of her pocket. "Hoshi Sato to Captain Archer," she hissed softly, removing a clip from the end of the device's hastily flipped-open cover and attaching it to her ear.

The familiar hiss of mild background static was unexpectedly reassuring, snapping her fully back into Starfleet mode. "_Archer here_." His familiar, confident voice filled her with even more confidence. Since she was wearing the earpiece, there was no chance for the sound of the Captains response to carry very far in the growing stillness of the chilly, breezeless night.

"I'm sorry to bother you sir," Hoshi began, carefully concealing the open communicator behind her duffle bag while she continued steadily walking along the beach back toward the hotel. "But you did order us to report all oddities, and so I thought you should know that someone is following me. Whoever it is has been tailing me ever since I left the Professor's home."

"_Do you need any help?_" As usual, his willingness to rush to her aid seemed a little bit patronizing, but it was also refreshing to know that if she needed him then he would always be there for her.

Off to her right and approximately thirty meters behind her, a branch snapped. The loud _crack_ broke the surrounding silence and brought Hoshi to a complete stop. Focusing her gaze on the source of the noise, she could again see definite signs that someone was moving through the trees and prowling just behind the lush greenery lining the upper edge of the beach. She clenched her jaw with determination before responding. "Hold on for a few seconds, Captain," she replied briskly. "And I'll let you know."

Her adversaries had definitely noticed that she was now standing still and no longer angling away toward the surf. The dark, shadowy outlines of two large men appeared suddenly on the sandy shore next to one of the palm trees. Ensign Sato held her position firmly, watching them intensely. "Does the pretty young lady want to come over and play?" one of the men asked in a drunken, playful tone of voice. "It's still early, so there's plenty of time for a party."

Sato continued to watch them for a few seconds longer, staring them down just long enough to maintain her calm demeanor and in turn temporarily freeze them in place. Then she pulled the phase pistol out of her duffel bag, thumbed its intensity setting to stun and fired a prolonged, searing bolt of energy directly between the two unidentified men. The electronic shriek of the phaser's harsh outcry shattered the quiet in the night air and sounded refreshingly comforting to her.

Both bodies and shadow immediately vanished back into the trees as quickly as they had appeared. Hoshi discharged the phaser three additional times for emphasis, repeatedly firing searing orange beams toward various random points in the underbrush. Pausing after the fourth shot, she could very plainly hear the obvious sounds of movement through the underbrush fade rapidly as her attackers swiftly beat a hasty retreat. Despite the hefty weapon in her hand and its promise of additional protection, a wave of relief surged through her.

"No thanks on the help sir," she declared proudly, removing the earpiece and reattaching it to the inside edge of the communicator's cover. "I managed to chase off a couple of spineless losers. They seem to have lost their courage when they found out that I'm not as helpless as they thought I was."

"_They may be part of a larger group_," Archer informed her. "_We've been monitoring at least a dozen unidentified people covertly scouting the casino for over an hour_." Without the earpiece, his voice was now clearly audible. Hoshi was no longer concerned about that, because a quick glance at the still active scanner lying on top of the books in the duffle bag confirmed that the immediate vicinity surrounding her was now completely clear.

"In my opinion sir, my pursuers are not connected with your group. It appeared to be a couple of unarmed, drunken idiots out looking for trouble," concluded Hoshi.

"_I've been visiting with the mayor's head of security. I'll have him dispatch a few officers immediately. It would be best to make certain that no one else inadvertently runs into your 'friends'_."

"They definitely weren't very friendly, and I'm more interested in what's happening there," Hoshi countered with growing intrigue, resuming her steady walk along the beach. "It sounds like the medical convention has drawn a lot of attention."

"_There are some very unruly people working the casino tables, and they seem to be paying attention to everything around them except the games in front of them. Malcolm believes that a coordinated group of thieves is planning to attack the party tonight. Since all of the well-to-do doctors and nurses from the medical conference will be drifting over to this casino from other hotels, tonight's gambling is going to present a mighty tempting target for them. If something major _is_ in the works, it will happen tonight_."

"Malcolm is very skilled at laying traps," agreed Hoshi softly.

"_Agreed. _You_ – on the other hand – have me a bit concerned. Wasn't it kind of reckless, Ensign, to allow yourself to be caught all alone on the beach like that_?" he asked with obvious, mild amusement. "_Didn't the Professor offer to walk you back? I thought you said he was a gentleman…_"

"Trust me Captain, I can take care of myself. If those two troublemakers had stuck around any longer, they'd be taking a nice nap right about now," Hoshi stated with a distinct note of defiance. "And if I get desperate, I also have the stun grenades with me too."

"_Well then, please hurry back_," Archer chuckled in response. "_After all, until Malcolm returns you're carrying our only phase pistol and I'd really like to have it if there's trouble_."

"You're _that_ confident the casino will be attacked?"

Archer harrumphed at her doubt. "_Affirmative. Most of the civilian armed ships have been slowly leaving orbit for several hours now. Malcolm and his team are the only ones in our landing party wearing Starfleet uniforms, and I'm sending them back to temporarily take _Enterprise_ out of orbit. We've just received a falsified emergency subspace message, so the departure will appear legit._"

Hoshi lightly bit her lower lip, thinking the matter through. "Risa must appear completely undefended."

"_That's correct. Everyone is used to Risan security wearing civilian clothes and working undercover. But they're also famous for not normally having to carry weapons. From the perspective of the people behind the recent robberies, they've got a great opportunity and an almost guaranteed escape route. I think it's safe to say that if our mysterious party crashers don't decide to attack this gathering, then they might as well look for another line of work. With the entire sector on full alert, they won't get another chance like this one for quite some time_."

Picking up her pace, Hoshi nodded even though Archer couldn't see her. "I'll be back at the hotel within ten minutes," she informed him.

* * *

The hotel patio was already crowded with people once Hoshi arrived. Sighing, she noticed that a chill evening breeze had suddenly appeared and tugged her sweater tighter around her. Then she pushed her way through the throngs of people – most of them doctors and a vast array of medical specialists – as she searched for familiar faces. The outer edges of the patio were encircled by small, circular tables with four chairs each. A crisp, white table cloth draped over the top of each reached almost all the way down to the floor. At the center of the spacious wooden floor were eight larger, rectangular tables – this was where a large, steaming buffet dinner consisting of dozens of various foods had been set out. Unlike their smaller counterparts, these tables weren't surrounded by chairs but they too had been covered with clean, neatly unfolded white cloth.

Hoshi's eyes came to rest on one of Captain Archer's MACO commandoes – the man was wearing civilian clothes but she recognized him anyway, standing behind one of the small tables holding a glass of bubbling golden liquid. To everyone but Hoshi, it appeared as though he was casually conversing with two of the other guests, but she noticed immediately that he was keeping a very close eye on a pair of men seated in front of him. Their voices were low and their expressions grim. Although the overall surrounding atmosphere seemed quite festive, it didn't appear as though they were having much fun. The _Enterprise_ marine flashed Hoshi a quick shake of his head to caution her away and she simply continued moving, ignoring the pair of suspicious looking strangers.

Archer was still speaking with Byett Crai, the mayor's personal head of security. With the departure of the sunshine and the afternoon heat along with it, the already crowded terrace continued to fill with more and more guests representing a variety of alien species. Most of them had no doubt already lost as much as they cared to in the casino; if not more than they wanted to. Using her petite stature to full advantage while maneuvering her way through all of the elbows, feet, and caterers, Hoshi strode confidently up to the Captain and smiled assuredly before discreetly handing him her duffle bag.

"Welcome back Ensign Sato," nodded Crai respectfully. "I deeply regret the trouble you ran into earlier this evening," he stated sincerely. "Usually we're much better at discouraging the drunken and disorderly. Unfortunately, during conventions we must accommodate more tourists than usual."

"Fortunately, no harm was done," Hoshi replied, glancing back the way she had come. "Although it would seem that there are definitely some very tough looking individuals hanging around here as well."

"The two who tried to attack you _are_ connected with the people here in the hotel. They're already in custody and confessed to being beach scouts," noted Archer with satisfaction. He unzipped the duffle bag and activated the scanner still sitting on top of its contents. "We're already in the process of isolating and eliminating our unwanted party crashers here." He smiled at her. "I hope your dinner went well."

"It went very well," acknowledged Hoshi with an enthused smile. "The Professor is an excellent host."

"Hopefully we can handle any trouble as _quietly_ as possible," emphasized Byett Crai with an uneasy smile. "We have many VIP guests here who spend a great deal of money visiting Risa."

Archer studied the scanning device and the multiple blips appearing on its display. He tapped a few keys and an overhead schematic of the casino and its adjoining patio superimposed itself over the top of the electronic contacts. "Our marines have already tagged them with EM tracking devices," he announced using a softer tone of voice. "We have no choice but to cause at least some disruption… unless you want to wait until they pull weapons. Then things will get really tricky…"

"_Noooooo_," Crai sighed softly with a shake of his head. "Take whatever action you feel is necessary. All I ask is that you remember that the protection of these citizens is my highest priority."

"Believe me Mr. Crai, the safety of your guests is _my_ highest priority too," replied Archer. "If you'll please prepare your own undercover officers, I'll implement the final stages of our plan."

"Yes, certainly." The tall, youthful-looking security officer nodded again. "We are very grateful for all your assistance Captain. My people are quite simply not trained for incidents of this… magnitude." A friendly but deeply concerned smile flashed across his features, and he turned and retreated into the crowd in order to warn his own undercover team.

Archer placed an arm comfortably around Hoshi's shoulder and guided her toward the edge of the room. "I think it's time that you and I should rejoin our esteemed colleague and keynote speaker," he suggested slyly. Once again, Hoshi found herself poked and jostled while the two of them shifted uncomfortably back and forth while passing through the throngs of partying guests. Only one of the tables in the vicinity still had empty seats, and in the end this proved to be their destination.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to _save_ seats out here?" asked Dr. Phlox with a frustrated shake of his head. The Denobulan _Enterprise_ physician sighed heavily, pleased to finally see them.

"Not my fault," Archer answered truthfully, feeling relaxed enough to remove the scanner from the duffle bag while taking a seat next to Phlox. "Hoshi took her sweet time getting back here."

Sato's glare in response could have melted ice. "Hoshi took her time because she was _attacked_…"

"I know," the Captain chuckled, not looking up. "I was tweaking you."

Phlox, by contrast, was completely taken aback. "Attacked? Goodness, Hoshi are you all _right_?"

He glanced apprehensively at the young woman, but she simply stared defiantly back in response. "I'm _fine_ Doctor," she emphasized tersely. "A couple of drunken hooligans tried to approach me, but that's all. They never got close." She smiled, remembering the liberating moment. "I chased them off with the Captain's phase pistol."

Archer took the duffle bag and hastily concealed it beneath the table. "Which I'm really glad that you returned by the way," he informed her. "Byett Crai was unwilling to allow us more than a few stun grenades and _one_ phaser. Unless we can put a quick stop to the situation here, he may regret that." Leaning back in his seat, the Captain flipped open his communicator. "Archer to Trip."

"_Tucker here_."

Charles Tucker's voice was almost impossible to hear amidst the din of conversation surrounding them. As Hoshi had done, Archer removed an earpiece from the communicator's cover and hooked it to his ear. "I want you and T'Pol to call in the street teams, Trip," ordered Archer firmly. "Have everyone get back to the hotel as soon as possible. Hoshi ran into a few suspects scouting the beach, and there have been at least three burglary reports. Other than that, no one else has been approached. It appears as though tonight's casino party is the primary target."

"_Acknowledged_."

The Captain leaned forward intently, resting his elbow on the table's surface. "Remind everyone to be extra careful Trip," he cautioned his Chief Engineer. "These people found a way to get weapons through the transport inhibitor, and it's possible that more of them are out there. With the MACOs here unarmed, we have one phase pistol and three stun grenades at our disposal. We're going to have to stop this thing before it starts."

"_Aye sir. I'll tell 'em_."

Both Hoshi and Phlox watched their Captain close the communicator, noting his obvious concern. He dealt with the emotions better than any of them, and yet it was clear that he too was somewhat nervous having to take chances in the midst of so many civilians. Glancing over his shoulder, Archer watched the sea of bodies milling nearby, most of whom had their backs turned to him. Flipping open the device in his hand once again, he came to a final decision. "Archer to casino leader. Corporal Palmer, are your men ready?"

There was a brief pause before a response was received, most probably because the MACO had to move to a discreet location. "_Everyone who is armed in here has been tagged. We're also watching a couple of other suspicious looking characters… I think they're acting as lookouts_."

Byett Crai had moved back through the crowd to a point where he could see the Captain's table. Archer nodded at the Risan security chief and then returned his attention to the communicator. "_Execute phase one_," he said simply, removing the earpiece and closing the device for the second time.

Crai and his undercover security forces moved casually and professionally through the crowd. Unless you knew in advance that they were present it was virtually impossible to differentiate between officers, small clusters of people holding conversations, and other guests in the process of table hopping. There were simply too many people who had moved out from the casino and were now crowding the small, enclosed hotel patio. Slowly but surely, Byett Crai and his men began closing off and securing the doors leading out from the casino. Jonathan Archer smiled with renewed confidence as they did so, because he knew exactly what was now taking place inside the gambling facility.

His own undercover MACOs had been ordered to tag all armed suspects. Throughout the evening, each of them had also been positioning themselves next to one of their armed opponents. To the enemy thieves, they would appear as harmless as any of the other guests, primarily because none of them were carrying weapons of their own. If the _Enterprise_ marines had chosen to bring firearms, the enemy would have been able to scan them just as easily as the marines had done and detect the trap closing in all around them. Archer had already issued the order to initiate. Once the doors to the casino were firmly sealed and the patio isolated, each of the MACOs received a silent signal from Corporal Palmer and instantly sprang into action.

Major Hayes had trained the people serving under him well, especially in hand-to-hand combat. A majority of those who had been tagged never even suspected that something was amiss. Most of them landed flat on their backs or had their legs kicked out from under them before they even realized they were under attack. As each target was disabled and taken into custody, the marines made certain to swiftly disarm them. Both knives and handheld, directed energy weapons were confiscated, and each MACO promptly terminated the electronic tags on each prisoner as soon as he was properly secured.

Some of the casino guests naturally noticed half a dozen fights spontaneously break out, but the transition happened so quickly that there was very little reaction. The chiming, electronic bells and whistles from the casino games created enough of a din to prevent the sound of the scuffles from penetrating the closed patio doors. Unless people happened to be looking directly at someone attacked, the vast majority of them were completely unaware that anything out of the ordinary had occurred and continued focusing their attention on the electronic games in front of them.

_Why bring_ more _weapons to a crowded civilian gathering when the enemy would already have them?_

It was a perfect plan, and so far it had been brilliantly executed. Hoshi and Dr. Phlox continued to hold a quiet, innocent looking conversation while Archer watched the electronic blips – each representing an enemy – disappear from the casino portion of the map on his handheld scanner. It was the prearranged signals from the MACOs patrolling the casino – their way of silently letting the Captain know that everyone with a weapon on their end had been neutralized. It was too early to celebrate, but Archer felt more than a little reassured as the last two blips vanished. Ten signals remained active on the surrounding patio, but they had planned for that too.

"We're half done," he hissed softly to Hoshi and Phlox, opening the communicator. "Execute phase two," he snapped briskly into the open Comm-link.

It was one thing to imagine what was happening in the other room, but entirely astonishing to actually witness the MACOs take charge of a situation. There wasn't as much background noise outside of the casino, so the gasps, shouts and screams from the crowd as bodies were flipped and pinned were clearly audible. Military operations such as this one were often carefully analyzed and thoroughly planned prior to implementation. And yet anyone with any experience at all in such matters would be certain to mention the fact that the _unexpected_ would be the greatest hindrance to its execution. As the marines on the terrace stood up from various locations around the buffet tables, one of them was hit from behind by three unarmed spectators. They had obviously been lurking amongst their armed colleagues, acting as scouts and meticulously studying the hotel's security.

The well-muscled, brown-haired marine went down in a tangle of legs and arms as two of the attackers tied him up long enough for the third to pull away a handgun. Backing away from the fight the now armed intruder grabbed the nearest civilian woman and held the barrel of the weapon against the side of her head. "Stop what you're doing immediately or this woman _dies_!" the alien screamed in a voice reeking of near panic. "I'm _not_ kidding… I'll kill her right here and now and then pick another one!"

His back facing the action, Archer calmly lowered his gaze toward the table top. "I _hate_ hostage situations," he growled softly. "They never work, but someone always tries it anyway…"

The hostage-taker's confidence returned somewhat as his two sidekicks rose to their feet and joined him, hovering protectively on either side of their leader and their prisoner. The battle-hardened marine quickly shook off the blows to his torso and head, rising almost immediately to his feet. Watching the eyes of the man with the weapon closely, he held up his hands cautiously and then backed slowly away.

Behind him, Byett Crai stepped forward with a deepening frown. "There's no need to kill anyone," he said calmly. "I'm certain that we can work something out that will be mutually beneficial."

The three men and their hostage continued retreating to the edge of the patio farthest away from the casino. With their backs against the darkness behind them, they faced the startled faces of the suddenly silent crowd of partiers. The other MACOs, still holding their confiscated weapons, moved forward to stand with their injured colleague as Crai's security men helped the captured thieves to their feet.

The leader of the group of thieves was a young, blonde-haired alien of some sort with scaly brown skin and a wild look in his gold, serpentine eyes. "If you want this woman – and others here – to live, you're going to do _exactly_ as I say," the man snarled. He squeezed the woman tightly to him for emphasis, causing her to cry out in pain. She was extremely courageous, however, and held her ground silently as the situation unfolded.

Byett Crai circled slowly to the man's right. "What do you want?" he asked curiously, stalling for time.

Archer's back was to the crowd, but Dr. Phlox was sitting across from him and could see everything. The crowd of civilian onlookers continued to back as far away from the thieves as the sealed casino doors would allow. "Crai is turning them away from us," the Doctor noted, his voice low and barely audible. "Their backs are now to us Captain. If you have a backup plan, then I strongly suggest…"

"We wouldn't be very responsible if we didn't have a backup plan, now would we Doctor," replied the Captain firmly. He reached into the duffle bag and pulled out a special sniper scope similar to the version used on MACO particle rifles. Attaching it to the top of the phase pistol, he made certain the weapon was set for stun. As soon as the telescope clicked into place, internal power from the phaser lit up its sighting mechanism.

Archer stood up in one smooth motion and turned to face the hostage takers, whose backs were still to him as they negotiated with Crai. He held the phaser closer than he usually would have, up near his right eye. The targeting sight immediately acquired the armed alien it was pointed at and focused its electronic crosshairs almost on the back of the enemy alien. Archer stood there, patiently waiting and sighting carefully, until Crai noticed him nod.

"We have a ship coming very soon," the alien snapped sharply, keeping his weapon pressed firmly against the young woman's light brown hair. "We're going to wait here until it arrives, and then you're going to drop your transport inhibitor around the lagoon and let all of us go. We're all going to beam away from here and then we'll release this woman."

Crai was no stranger to crisis management, and his tone became a bit more provocative. He waved his hands almost casually in front of him. "Most of your men are already in custody," he pointed out, almost teasingly. "There's no way all of you can possibly…"

"You will _release_ those in custody and return our weapons," hissed the alien defiantly. "Or I will begin shooting your guests, one by one." _And then he made his big mistake_. "Perhaps I will begin with _you_…" To emphasize his point, he pulled the weapon away from the woman's head and pointed it in the general direction of Byett Crai. His over-sized lips curled upward in a nasty leer.

Archer fired, and his carefully targeted phaser shot crossed the room instantaneously, searing deep into the alien leader's right shoulder. The thief gasped in shock as his entire right side went numb and the weapon fell from his senseless fingers, clattering to the hardwood floor below. The other two men flanking him both reacted instantly, leaning over to try and catch it. The MACOs were ready, and expertly leveled their captured weapons at the pair.

Both of the alien leader's colleagues were shot well before they could hope to regain control of the energy pistol. Azure blue flame and swirling black smoke erupted from their chests, and the force of the directed energy impacts threw them backwards and into the dark sand below. Almost immediately, MACOs and Risan security men jumped off the patio to take the pair into custody before they could regain their composure and escape. Unfortunately for them, it turned out that the weapons they had brought with them were all fixed at a lethal setting. Both of the men were dead.

Flipping open his communicator, the Captain breathed a sigh of relief. "Archer to Palmer…"

"_The entire casino has been secured, sir_," reported the proud Corporal. "_We got everybody… even the unarmed co-conspirators. Apparently the guys who had weapons don't want to go to jail alone_."

"It was a little touchy for awhile, but so did we," grinned Archer. "Nice job everyone."

A crowd of people rushed over to the woman who had been held hostage, offering her water, holding her hand, and asking her if she was okay. Archer continued to stand there holding the phaser, watching the faces in the crowd begin to relax as they realized the unexpected danger was over. Many of them were noticeably shaken, quite probably by the abruptness and swiftness of the events that had taken place. One minute a festive party had been in full swing, and the next… chaos.

Phlox shook his head as he moved to stand next to the Captain. "It's a convention of doctors and nurses," he stated informatively. "I daresay that woman will be just fine."

* * *

_Enterprise_ NX-01, Orbiting Risa, June 29, 2158

* * *

After meeting with Malcolm Reed and the MACO squad to finalize their respective reports to Starfleet, Jonathan Archer finally returned to his quarters for some down time. He set a plate of diced cheese on the desktop next to his monitor and began to take off the top of his uniform. He had eaten only sparsely from the buffet during the evening on Risa, so he downed a couple pieces of the cheese before a polite _bark_ of protest broke the silence around him. The Captain smiled warmly at Porthos, his pet beagle, and tossed him several chunks of the cheese.

"There were _no_ civilian casualties tonight Porthos," he sighed with relief. "I think Chef knew I'd be in the mood to celebrate, since he left a plate out for you." He watched the happy brown and white dog instantly devour the treat. "Those were professional thieves too," he mused thoughtfully out loud. "Things could have gone a lot worse, but we took a lot of organized criminals out of action tonight."

Porthos unexpectedly began jumping up and down, barking sharply. Archer watched the dog closely and chuckled in response. "You know that you're not supposed to eat too much," he observed. "More cheese and you'll wind up down in Sickbay – in Phlox's kind care again." Even so, he was still feeling extremely relieved and cheerful at the outcome of the evening's events and so he tossed another pair of cheddar chunks toward the tail-wagging canine. Unexpectedly, the canine completely ignored the food that landed in front of him and continued barking excitedly.

_A chill ran down Archer's spine as he realized that Porthos was barking at something behind him._

The Captain whirled around instantly, noticing a stranger standing in a shadowy corner on the far side of his quarters. It was impossible to determine whether the intruder had already been there when he came in or transported in after he arrived. Archer sized the stranger up quickly, noticing that he held no weapons of any obvious sort. The male stranger was wearing what looked like a black uniform trimmed with dark blue, and there was an odd, sideways-looking Starfleet-insignia on his chest that somehow appeared out of place. He presumed the man was an alien of some sort, since he had golden skin and pale yellow eyes with dark black slits for pupils.

"Greetings Captain Archer," the newcomer announced politely. "My name is Data, and I am in need of your assistance."


	4. Wrongs Darker Than Death Or Night

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Wrongs Darker Than Death Or Night

* * *

**

Delta Quadrant, Fringe of Unknown Star System, Post-Armageddon

* * *

The first few months after the Scholar's departure were extremely disheartening for Ari Veller. For the most part, he felt trapped inside a living hell from which there was no escape. The surrounding city of Kopal was an older one, and its buildings and houses were definitely exhibiting signs of age and extreme wear even before the promised festivals began. As promised, once per week the new citizens now living in Veller's nation were temporarily released from their computerized captivity and allowed to expel their repressed emotions – to 'celebrate'. But after personally witnessing the first couple of festivals, the Chancellor would have described them as more of an uncontrolled, violent riot. Slowly but surely, he watched what was left of the nation's valuable infrastructure – its buildings and roads – begin to decay.

The damage to the buildings, roads and windows was extreme, as well as to motor vehicles and other objects that – in the aftermath of even a brief planetary war – were now essentially irreplaceable. Survivors from across the globe had been transported onto the continent hosting Ari Veller's nation, and each festival brought with it an unexpected release of violent emotion from all of them. The Chancellor, along with six hand-picked scientists specifically recruited to assist him in maintaining the computer over the long-term, were forced to sit by and watch each week as the people of his planet took out their repressed anger and frustration… _on each other_. To Veller the festival process was a frightening thing to watch, and he had no idea how – if in any way – this process could possibly be helping to improve things. From his perspective the ending of each week brought with it a new war, this time controlled by a computer and fought in a very different fashion.

For one half day each week, a new festival would begin at sundown. The subsequent outpouring of emotion from the transplanted citizens of the Veller's new nation would continue non-stop until shortly after sunrise. Ari and his colleagues never slept much during those nights. It was hard to get any rest while listening to the sounds of glass shattering, men beating one another, and the agonized screams of women as they were swept off their feet against their will and carried off into the dark corners of some side ally. None of the seven, unabsorbed members of the maintenance team had any choice except to listen to it all. Sometimes Ari would stand in the side office near his favorite window, watching the running, screaming people pass by as they focused – for a brief time – only on expressing each and every emotion as soon as they felt it. Then the morning would come and everyone would stop in the middle of what they were doing, pause for a moment, and then return to their normal, calm demeanor. Even after witnessing the process take place on multiple occasions, it was still extremely unsettling to watch.

After the initial group of survivors had been fully 'absorbed', full control over the remainder of the transplanted refugees was handed over to the new group of 'Lawgivers'. Regardless of where people chose to hide, the Lawgivers actively sought them out and used their long, hollow staffs to collect and focus telepathic waves on those who had not yet been absorbed. Everywhere they went, the Lawgivers worked steadily to connect the minds of everyone they could find to the newly established network. Even worse, those newly converted would immediately turn on their friends and give away their locations as well. The Lawgivers were seemingly everywhere, deliberately making an effort to be seen publicly and lay down the new law. In every rural area, town, or city their familiar, plain brown robes could be regularly observed patrolling the streets. Even in the relative darkness of night, glimmers of reflected light could regularly be seen glinting off the hollow, metallic staffs they carried.

Within days, there was a powerful, telepathic energy field permeating the atmosphere around everyone who remained alive. The absorption process swiftly accelerated into full gear once the need for people to visit Kopal and its computer center was eliminated. And yet, no matter how hard the Lawgivers worked to impose the will of Landru on everyone, there always seemed to be a small number of people who possessed a natural resistance to the absorption process. As on other worlds that the Preservers had done this to, those who were immune quickly learned how to hide their resistance and fake total obedience to Landru. To do otherwise would immediately identify an individual as a danger to the Body, as an unwanted disruption to its perfection. Certain death was sure to follow.

_Thus, the Body survived and continued to grow even though it was arguably imperfect._

One of the scientists that had been picked for the maintenance team was an attractive female named Kalita Rama, and during festival nights she made certain that she was off the streets early and protected by at least two Lawgivers in the main computer room. Since Kalita had lived in another nation, she was naturally curious about her new surroundings and normally enjoyed exploring the city. But as those first few weeks stretched into a month and then into two, she made certain to note the dates of festivals well in advance of their occurrence. The other five scientists also found themselves busy with study or other matters on nights when the riots inevitably broke out on their relentless, predictable schedule.

"I can't take this much longer," Veller declared one morning as the seven members of the maintenance team gathered for a brief meeting in the central computer room. It was a sunny spring morning approximately two months after the Scholar had brusquely returned to his massive starship and departed, passing all of the new problems that his technology had created onto them. "I tell you, it won't be long before I decide to turn that blasted computer _off_!"

The others, especially Kalita, had strongly objected to that notion. "The Scholar neutralized all of the radioactive material in our missiles," she reminded him, her long blonde hair hanging sweaty and disheveled across her shoulders. Like the rest of them, she was both emotionally and physically exhausted by recent events. "But there are still conventional weapons, bombs and aircraft sitting around everywhere – and not just in _this_ country. If we simply pull out the plug on that contraption, everyone could resume fighting _all_ the time and we could be wiped out. We must wait… at least until all of the remaining military hardware can be located and dismantled."

"_Could_…" stressed Ari emphatically, leaning closer so that he could more closely study the emotional pain in her troubled blue eyes. "We are people from all nations – intermingled together now. It would be much more difficult for people to choose sides. I need alternatives Dr. Rama… as a leader sworn to govern others faithfully, I simply cannot stand idly by and allow _this_ to continue." He waved a frustrated hand in the general direction of the city streets outside.

"Believe it or not, Chancellor, I may actually have another option for you to ponder. As we have made adjustments to the parameters of the computer's software, we have watched it actually _add_ new hardware that it needs. The computer contains an anti-matter core and therefore has unlimited power available to it. When it needs additional CPU capacity or memory storage, some sort of built-in replication device promptly constructs the additional components… they appear seemingly out of thin air, already attached through the outer casing and interfaced with the main system. I located information about this process in the machine's archives and satisfied my own curiosity. However, those who previously lived in our planet's third world nations might mistakenly label this as magic."

"Forgive me, I am not a scientist," Veller noted, raising a trembling, weak hand. "How can it do that?"

"Your own scientists would be able to tell you more," countered Kalita with a wry smile. "After all, it was your nation that was experimenting with anti-matter and all of its limitless possibilities up until the final judgment day. It is my professional opinion that the computer left by the Scholar contains a variety of additional schematics for various components that _may_ at some point be needed. I believe that there is also an internal replicator system capable of converting energy directly into matter – even on a design scale as small and detailed as a micro-circuit pathway." For added emphasis, she held up a small, intricately constructed computer chip. "I created this, using one of the control panel's command functions. It is a prototype design that I requested simply by accessing one of the Preserver design schematics. The information needed was listed in a database stored within the system's permanent memory. As we learn more about this computer, I expect we will eventually be able to control all of its functions… to make it do whatever we want it to."

The Chancellor accepted the chip from her and examined it more closely. "What exactly is this?"

"I believe that you are holding the answer to our most pressing problem," replied Dr. Rama confidently. "Over the past few months, I have closely studied the bio-technology used by the machine to project its telepathic, programmed instructions across our airwaves. While doing so, I have also instructed the Lawgivers to round up everyone who so far has proven to be immune to the absorption process."

"Why?" Veller wondered curiously.

Kalita took the micro-chip back, bouncing its light weight effortlessly in the palm of her right hand. "This device attaches directly to the brain," she informed him with a smug smile. "It receives and directly focuses the telepathic transmission much like the staffs held by the Lawgivers. Since the chip also contains programming, it can function as a remote interface with a humanoid brain and _force_ even those who would normally be immune to the absorption process to obey Landru's instructions. They too can now be processed and added to the Body."

"How… by plugging those devices into their heads?" Ari Veller turned away in shock, his expression gaunt and emotionally haunted. "The Lawgivers already have too _much_ power over our citizens… everyone around us now serve only as slaves. They are vibrant, living individuals who have been reduced to a robotic simulation of life, doing only what they are specifically told to by that blasted machine!" He pointed furiously toward the computer, even though he had heard it speak on occasion. For now, its vocal interface chose to remain silent.

"This is actually a more efficient process… one day I expect that everyone who has survived will have one of these implanted in their head," she told him, trying hard to reassure him. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "If you have concerns, we can test it first on ourselves."

The look of horror on Veller's face surprised her. "Why would you _want_ to do that?" he asked, clearly astonished by her suggestion.

"This is a command and control version," stated Kalita informatively. "It will allow us to directly eavesdrop on the thoughts of people nearby and verify that the central computer is functioning properly." She shrugged her slim shoulders casually. "Some of us have already done so before – the computer contains an option in its programming that can be activated within this central chamber. Unless there is a festival taking place, the sound of our people's calm, carefully controlled thoughts can be very reassuring… a far cry from the violent behavior that we witnessed leading up to the war. Several of us regularly choose people at random and listen to their thoughts to insure that inner conflict within their psyche is minimized. So far the process is working… only their stronger emotions are being repressed."

For the first time in many days, a glimmer of hope sparkled in the Chancellor's eyes. "Doctor Rama, could we allow our people to hear each other too?" he wondered inquisitively. "Could we allow them to _hear_ the calm, relaxed thoughts of their fellow citizens as they pass by each other, thereby reassuring each of them in turn?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That might ease some of their concern and help us to condition them more quickly."

His enthusiasm sparked her in turn. "I would say that's a _strong_ possibility," she acknowledged, her expression lighting up immediately. "We would have to implant a command version of the chip in everyone, but we could first disable the programming subroutines that govern it for everyone except the seven of us on the science team."

One of the other five colleagues was in the room listening, and he shook his head slowly. "You're _not_ putting one of those things in _my_ head," he announced sharply, backing uneasily away from them. "I want to stay just as I am, thank you very much."

The scientist who had spoken was a tall, skinny programming specialist from one of the other two larger nations. Veller glared at him, and suddenly all of the old feelings of distrust and resentment threatened to boil up inside him again. Remembering the dire nature of their situation, he forced the emotions aside and instead focused his attention on the immediate problem facing them. "If this helps our people to calm down more quickly and return to a normal life, Idortu Kol, then you certainly _will_ help us test out one of these chips," snapped the Chancellor, verbally rebuking the man right in front of Kalita. "However," he stated disapprovingly, continuing to scold the visibly rattled scientist. "Since you have such concern for your own personal safety, you may go _last_."

"It's not a problem, really," insisted Kalita Rama with a dry smile. "To quell any apprehensions held by the others, I volunteer to undergo this procedure first."

* * *

As things turned out, Dr. Rama ended up keeping her word that same day. Working closely with the other scientists, she utilized the replication function already designed into the Preserver computer. This time, however, the science team reviewed the schematics of a surgical device capable of implanting a micro-chip deep inside a humanoid skull without the use of conventional surgery. "It has to be a quick and easy process," Kalita pointed out to the others while they worked. "We have millions of survivors living around us, and someday we may need to implant one of these into everyone."

"What other designs are stored in there?" asked one of the other scientists with distinct interest.

"Let's stick to the problem at hand," suggested Dr. Rama firmly.

Arms folded, Chancellor Veller watched with concern and growing anxiety as a cylindrical electronic device shimmered into existence on top of the computer. A blaze of glowing green particles faded, and he stepped forward eagerly to examine the machine's latest creation. That was it – all they needed to do was access the appropriate schematic and order the computer to create their own working model. Dr. Rama's eyes sparkled with admiration as she picked up the contrivance. It was approximately eighteen inches in length and seven inches in diameter. One end of it was rounded and bare, while the other ended in an angled, wedge shape from which various medical instruments sprouted.

"What is that thing?" asked Veller curiously, his intense gaze never leaving the computerized mechanism. "Again, I would remind you that I used to be a politician."

"This is a portable surgical device," noted Dr. Rama, exhaling with both delight and astonishment. Ari pulled back in shock as she promptly inserted one of her micro-chips into the hollow tip of a lengthy, metallic prong sticking outward from the wedge. Without even pausing, she held up the odd-looking contraption and – using both hands to hold it firmly in place – pressed the metal tip against the side of her head. Before anyone else could say or do anything, the metallic prong began to elongate slowly, poking through the outer layer of her skin and vanishing deep inside Rama's head. If there was any pain involved in the procedure, Ari could not tell. Even as Kalita continued to hold the device, she smiled with obvious admiration at its design and capabilities.

"How can you possibly _do_ that?" asked Dr. Kol, his thin face paling while he watched the unexpected event taking place. "A _major_ surgical procedure is needed for that kind of an implant…"

"Not with _this_ device it isn't," Kalita Rama responded confidently. "The software running the surgical instruments affixed to this device is capable of analyzing my physiology and making all necessary adjustments during the implant. I've been reading up on the computerized user manual stored along with the design. If anything unexpected turns up, the mechanism will automatically abort the procedure." Whirring and humming, the metallic probe remained inside Dr. Rama's head for approximately sixty seconds before retracting. "There was absolutely _no_ pain," she chuckled with renewed enthusiasm.

Idortu appeared unconvinced. "None?" he said softly with more than a little apprehension.

Their attention remained focused on the newly created surgical apparatus, which was now using several razor thin scarlet laser beams to rapidly seal and sterilize the puncture wound. Within seconds, the skin on the side of Dr. Rama's temple was totally healed. The other six men surrounding her stepped forward with unrestrained curiosity, but no matter how closely they studied her skin there was absolutely no trace of even a minor scar.

_It had taken barely a minute to implant the micro-chip_.

"I can _feel_ it activating," exhaled Kalita excitedly with a wide sweeping grin on her face. "I can feel its electronic presence inside my thoughts, along with Landru's transmission."

"You look normal," Idortu commented idly. "You're not praising Landru or saying the same ridiculous things that…"

The sharp turn of her head, followed by Dr. Rama's icy stare, instantly silenced him. "We are doing this to insure that there is a future for our _race_," she reminded him sternly. "Without this technology, we would all be _dead_!"

The Chancellor nodded respectfully at her and then walked the short distance across the room and came to a stop in front of its only entrance. He pressed the wall mechanism that released the door lock, and the twin doors swung slowly outward. As soon as they were fully open he retreated far enough to allow a pair of Lawgivers to enter. They moved into the room slowly and calmly, with their brown hooded robes hiding most of their facial features. "We come to serve the will of Landru," one of them declared in a cold, emotionless tone of voice. "We await your orders."

Almost immediately Kalita Rama stiffened in response. "_It works!_" she stated proudly, nodding in elation at the other members of the science team. "I can _hear_ the thoughts of _both_ of them in my mind!"

For the moment at least, Ari remained skeptical. "You mentioned that your chip contains command software," he reminded her. "It is obvious that your emotions remain under your control. What about your free will?" He studied her features closely. "Is there any temptation for you to comply with the instructions contained in Landru's transmission, as the others around us are doing?"

Kalita paused briefly for a moment, listening closely to the telepathic communication that the implanted micro-chip allowed her to tap into. "As far as I can tell, everything is working fine," she informed him with a firm nod. "You wouldn't believe how _peaceful_ our people feel," the Doctor added with a wide smile, turning toward the rigid, unmoving forms of the two Lawgivers. "There is no residual animosity at all… those two people simply want to live out their lives in a safe, caring environment."

"I would remind you Doctor, that these Lawgivers are quite capable of breaking the peace if they detect a threat. I have watched them kill those who were immune to absorption if they attempted to resist violently," Ari cautioned her. "However, it is good to know that the programming in the chip is functioning reliably. We will wait one full day to be certain that you are still you, and then the rest of our team will also undergo this procedure… beginning with me."

_He chose to ignore the terrified, pale expressions on the faces of the other five scientists.

* * *

_

Despite his intention to fully participate in the micro-chip experiment, it took Ari Veller only a single day after receiving his own personal implant before he asked Dr. Kalita Rama to turn the damned thing off. He had expected to hear the same types of thoughts that the Doctor had described to him upon her initial connection to the telepathic network. Unfortunately, however, her perspective ended up differing considerably from Veller's own. As soon as his chip was activated, he was immediately able to telepathically sense the thoughts of a Lawgiver who happened to be standing obediently next to him. The Chancellor was expecting a flood of repressed anger and anxiety, but was greeted instead by an unnerving silence. Apparently emotions on the conscious level were almost totally repressed.

The situation had immediately rattled Veller because he was – at heart – an ambitious politician. Ari was an intelligent, savvy and charismatic leader who had risen through the political rank and file of his nation through prolonged and tireless hard work. He still remembered that first day when he had officially received the title of Chancellor, along with the swell of pride inside his chest upon witnessing the non-stop adulation from those who had assembled for his coronation. He was an emotionally flawed, individual human being who learned from his mistakes and the experience acquired from years of toil. There was simply no other way to describe his innate nature. That was why the situation surrounding him – watching people he had sworn to govern faithfully reduced to emotionless, obedient servitude – truly continued to bother him.

Upon eavesdropping on the thoughts of the people around them, three of the other five scientists serving on the computer maintenance team also asked to be disconnected from the telepathic network. After conferring briefly with Kalita, the Chancellor agreed to their request. Dr. Rama promptly reassured him that she would be able to continue her analysis, even if exposure was limited to two other scientists. "I suggest that you keep your chip implant for now, even if it remains off," she had urged. "We were warned that the computer might malfunction from time to time, so there may be unexpected situations when we have a direct need to hear what certain people are thinking." As usual, Kalita had thought things through pretty well, so it was extremely difficult for Ari to argue with her point of view. He didn't have a better plan, and so he reluctantly agreed.

That conversation, unfortunately, was their last for awhile. Two weeks passed, and the seven of them still had not come together for a follow up conference. Shortly after her own chip was activated, Dr. Rama suggested that she move out 'among the people' in order to get a better sense of how well their newly transformed society was operating. Ari chuckled at the time, commenting with amusement on her continued determination to travel throughout the land. "For me, it is an entirely new world," she promptly reminded him. "Prior to the war, I never had the opportunity to visit your country."

Her departure had left the Chancellor even more concerned, primarily because she was the only person he talked to these days. Kalita had promised them that they would be able to 'hear the thoughts' of the people once the implanted micro-chips were active. Ari had indeed been able to sense what others were thinking during the brief time that his chip was active. However, what he had heard was more of the same… a frightening lack of individuality.

_Peace and the blessings of Landru be with you._

_Truly we are fortunate to have a Body that functions for the good of all._

_Blessed be the Body_.

The Lawgiver had been thinking the exact _same_ things that everyone absorbed was walking around saying! Veller had sensed no personality at all, no hint of a mind that was still active and thinking on its own. It wasn't just emotions that were being repressed, he had discovered on that day. The computer controlling the 'Body' of his people had shut off all independent thought as well. Driven primarily by a concern that was escalating faster with each passing day, Ari Veller wandered the hallways on the second floor of the central computer building in search of Idortu Kol. The gaunt, eccentric scientist was never his favorite person to talk to, but the Chancellor was determined to learn more about what was taking place. Dr. Kol possessed opinions that differed greatly from his own, and right now Ari felt the need to hear them.

He finally found Kol in the main computer room, curiously studying the status readouts on the system's main display panel. The scientist's expression was grave, and he glanced up with noticeable apprehension upon noticing Ari's arrival. "There is a _new_, unknown function running," Idortu pointed out, his tone filled with distrust. "As far as I can tell, it activated at some point yesterday… probably during the evening."

"What _kind_ of new function?" Ari frowned deeply, studying the massive machine with newfound suspicion and long held doubts that continued to grow by the hour.

"Unless we listen in on the thoughts of those who have been absorbed, there is no way to make that determination," replied Idortu Kol tersely. He pointed at the status indicators. "Usually there are six green lights indicating that functionality is normal… today there are now _seven_."

Moving to stand next to Dr. Kol, Ari studied his profile intently. "What was it like for _you_?" he asked with genuine interest. "What did _you_ sense when the micro-chip inside your head was activated?"

Idortu Kol shrugged indifferently, a worried smile playing across his thin lips. Sighing heavily, he brushed a wave of graying hair away from his forehead and paused at length before responding to the Chancellor's question. "I sensed _nothing_," he stated finally. "Nothing at all, Chancellor. I could _hear_ in my mind the same types of words that we have heard spoken regularly by members of the Body, but there was _nothing _that indicated the presence of any sort of free will. Even the very thoughts of our people are controlled – placed in their heads by this… this cursed machine!" He dropped to his knees and tears formed at the corners of his eyes. "Now a new function of some sort has activated, and I cannot determine its purpose. I am not as skilled in the sciences as Dr. Rama has proven to be."

Placing a comforting hand on the shoulder of Dr. Kol, Ari helped him back to his feet. "Kalita will be back," he promised. "After all, what could possibly happen to her out there? We no longer have any crime in this bold new society of ours."

Seething with anger, Idortu Kol turned to face Chancellor Veller. "Our other two colleagues who still retain an active chip were talking the other day," he continued. "I overheard them. They claim that the thoughts they have 'heard' from members of the Body are meticulously monitored and adjusted. If, for example, someone is assigned to pick up after a festival, he may be instructed to clean the street of debris. Next he may be directed to replace a broken window…"

"But no one _asks_ them to do it," Veller concluded. "They are mere puppets who receive orders from the central computer."

"Exactly," declared Kol ominously. "Our people are puppets until the strings are cut and they are allowed to riot. After a half day passes, telepathic control is restored and the cycle begins again."

Ari's gaze shifted to the status panel built into the massive frame of the huge computer. His thoughts raced with all kinds of possibilities as to what that seventh blinking green light meant, but until he had more to go on it was impossible to reach a final conclusion. His reservations continued to build as he continued to watch his people undergo their 'penalty' for daring to war with each other on a global scale. It was, after all, the Scholar who had pronounced judgment on them all. The Scholar had voluntarily chosen to leave virtually everyone on the planet serving at the whims of his computer, and now a mysterious _new_ function had mysteriously activated.

_Faced with yet another unknown, the Chancellor's doubts and concern turned abruptly into a furious determination to act_.

"We're going to _destroy_ this machine, Idortu," Ari decided firmly, whispering softly so that the Lawgivers standing calmly behind them could not overhear. "And I don't mean simply shut it off… I want to destroy it utterly. I still have access to weapons in this city, and if you will stand with me we can do this together." He studied the face of his colleague, trying to gauge his reaction. "But first I need to know with certainty that our people will _not_ be harmed in doing so."

Dr. Kol held up his hands casually and shook his head. "How could shutting this computer down possibly hurt anyone?" he hissed back, casting a suspicious eye over his shoulder toward the unmoving forms of the robed Lawgivers. "We are dealing with a bio-mechanical device that utilizes simulated telepathy to interact with our people's minds. If we deactivate the computer, then the telepathic network will fade and our people's thoughts will be freed."

"Then let's do this and do it quickly," replied Veller curtly, committing himself to action. "I will go and get the supplies we need, and then you and I will turn this devilish machine off… permanently." He shook his head, and dark emotions tugged at his thoughts as he contemplated the ridiculous nature of their present situation. "The survivors will no doubt still be distrustful of one another, but I believe we have a better chance of climbing out of this hole that we have dug ourselves into if we work together as free men and women. I _know_ we will survive."

The Chancellor turned to leave with Idortu Kol at his side, but before they could move toward the twin exit doorways he suddenly found himself inexplicably, astonishingly, frozen in place. It was as though the muscles in his body suddenly decided not to obey the commands transmitted to them by his brain. Trapped in place by an unknown force, he stared straight ahead helplessly. He didn't even have control of his eyes, so it was impossible to tell if Dr. Kol had been paralyzed in a similar manner. As the seconds passed and Idortu also remained still and silent, Ari could only assume that he too had been immobilized. _What the devil is going on?_ he wondered silently.

_The two of them, watched impassively by the Lawgivers, remained frozen in place for over four hours_.

Finally the large, metallic exit doors swung outward, opening silently while Veller watched helplessly in anticipation. A sudden chill ran through him – a feeling not unlike a winter wind whipping through a lighter weather jacket. The fear and expectation that something terrible was happening continued to build within Ari as he watched four shadows appear in the doorway. Seconds later, Dr. Kalita Rama and one of the other scientists entered the computer chamber, flanked on each side by a Lawgiver. Still unable to move, the Chancellor immediately noticed _TWO_ very important things.

_One: The scientist standing next to Kalita had a glazed, empty look in his eyes. Veller recognized him as one of the two men who had chosen to retain an active chip._

_Two: The scientist's entire left forearm had been amputated. Attached in its place was the electronic surgical unit that Kalita had created using schematics archived inside the Scholar's computer. This was the device that had been specifically constructed to implant micro-chips inside the humanoid brain._

"I'm sorry if I startled you Chancellor," noted Kalita with a sinister smile that looked completely unfamiliar on her usually friendly face. "However, I sensed you were about to do something foolish and had no choice but to delay you." She cocked her head oddly to one side and Ari immediately felt control of his body restored. He turned to face Idortu Kol and discovered that the Doctor's look of complete terror mirrored his own inner emotional turmoil.

"What is going on here?" asked Veller with growing anger. "What have you _done_ Kalita?"

She stood there silently for a moment, content to smile at him with that same dark, confident look that had initially spooked him. "I am working to preserve the survival of our people," she retorted with unrestrained bitterness in her tone. "I am doing something that you have clearly _not_ been doing, although I have often heard you claim otherwise."

"Dr. Rama, _what_ are you talking about?" demanded the Chancellor. "_I_ am in charge of this team…"

"_You_ are in charge no longer," she snapped heatedly in response. "The chips in your heads still function and I am fully capable of controlling both you and Idortu Kol. Neither of you realized that they were still active… I made certain of that so I could read your thoughts and determine if you were hiding things from me. Specifically, I needed to know _where _in this sizeable country of yours to look."

"Where to look…?" Veller trailed off suddenly as inspiration struck. "It seems you were doing more than sightseeing during the time you traveled through my nation," he nodded with sudden recognition. "You read my thoughts without my knowledge?"

"Indeed." She continued to glare at him almost hatefully. "Foreign intelligence and propaganda being what they are, I personally never believed the rumors about weapons of mass destruction in your country. To me they were simply rumors – propaganda spread by the leaders of my own nation. However, once I read your thoughts I finally knew the entire truth of the matter. Then I moved among the remnants of your people until I discovered – by finding and reading the thoughts of others who used to serve in your military – precisely where I needed to go."

This time it was the Chancellor who looked outraged. "_What have you done Kalita?_" he shouted angrily, repeating his earlier demand with considerably more emphasis this time.

"I have _saved_ our race from _your_ short sightedness," she declared, staring him down defiantly. "My detective work led me to a nearby military installation, and now I know _all_ of its secrets."

A heated retort died suddenly at the base of Ari Veller's throat. She knew. _She knew_.

"Supposedly your government was working toward the _peaceful_ development of anti-matter powered space vessels," she continued as the Chancellor began to grow even more uneasy. His discomfort was blatantly obvious, and Kalita's growing confidence fed off of it. "Despite repeated claims that your government was conducting scientific research only for space exploration, I have discovered all kinds of interesting things that clearly contradict those claims."

Idortu Kol swung his gaze suspiciously toward Veller. "What kind of things?" he asked inquisitively.

"Bio-weapons research, anti-matter bombs, cloning facilities… you name it, this country's government has at least one project in progress," Dr. Rama informed him. She gestured toward the scientist next to her – a man who continued to stare vacantly straight ahead as though his free will, too, had fled totally from his mind. "That was why I remotely activated the _join_ function on the Preserver computer during my return trip to this building. Using the surgical equipment attached directly to this man's body, we were able to implant chips inside the minds of _hundreds_ of people over the past two weeks. I'm taking over command of what's left of our people, Chancellor," she told him bluntly. "I agreed to accept you as our team leader only with the understanding that you would be completely honest with me. Clearly, based on what I have found in recent days, you have not been entirely forthcoming about your government's involvement in igniting a global war."

"_Join_ function?" Idortu Kol appeared puzzled.

"Yes," nodded Kalita. "The Scholar possessed advanced technology, but he was a fool. Why isolate perfectly good minds when joining them together offers so much more comfort? I have implanted chips in enough people to form a growing group consciousness… truly a remarkable experience. Already our own personal network has grown large enough to negate the computer's transmission. We hear only each other now."

"As far as the war is concerned, there is _plenty_ of blame to go around," protested Ari forcefully. "But can't you see what the Scholar has done to us? We must shut this thing off," he continued with a sudden urgency. His instincts told him that if he didn't act soon, he would lose the opportunity to do so. "For our people to truly live again, the Body must _die_."

Kalita chuckled at his words. "The Body is _already_ dying," she declared proudly. "Each time we implant a new chip it grows smaller, and in its place a new Collective is swiftly forming."

Her eyes were shining bright with a peculiar glimmer that left Veller suddenly doubting her sanity. "_Collective_? Kalita… what have you _done_…" he moaned, dropping to his knees. He couldn't get the image of the man standing next to her out of his mind… the lifeless glaze in his eyes, the computerized surgical component melded to his left forearm. "Did you remove that man's arm _simply_ for the purpose of speeding up your ability to implant micro-chips? _Did you take his arm off for that?_" he thundered furiously at her. "I thought you were a scientist! What kind of monster have you turned into?"

"I am _not_ a monster," she practically spat back at him.

"All those voices inside of your head are affecting you! Can't you see that? What you are doing…"

"What I am doing is _reversing_ the process we were forced to live with," Dr. Rama told him with a near hysterical laugh. "The power of Landru has been ill-used on our world. Repressing the power of our minds is wrong… we need to instead _release_ that power and then harness it so all of us can hear each other… so that all of us can collaborate as a single mind and share our knowledge and experiences with each other." She raised a hand and the man next to her began walking forward suddenly, stiffly walking across the room until he reached the pair of Lawgivers that had been assigned to watch the computer room. They were the same two men whose presence had earlier caused Ari Veller and Idortu Kol to lower their voices while they discussed their planned attack on the computer.

"This… this is unthinkable," gasped Idortu Kol. He turned to run, but with only a thought Dr. Kalita Rama selectively paralyzed just their leg muscles this time. It was enough to freeze them in place. Both of them stood by helplessly while the scientist under her control proceeded to use the equipment attached to his left arm. They had no choice but to watch as he mindlessly implanted a micro-chip in each of the two Lawgivers. Neither of them moved or flinched in any discernible way during the process.

Dr. Rama inhaled deeply and then smiled with obvious satisfaction. "Both of their voices are now a part of me too," she informed them. "After all, there is really only _one_ command chip. None of you bothered to check my work and verify just what it was I implanted in your head."

The Chancellor looked away with disgust. "I am not a scientist… we _trusted_ you," he growled fiercely.

"And _I_ trusted you as well," retorted Kalita snidely. "At least, I gave you the benefit of the doubt until I was able to locate solid evidence of your government's deception." She shook her head, equally dismayed with _his_ behavior. "Because of the selfishness of your nation's leaders, this planet's people were almost entirely wiped out as a race. Almost… but that time is at an end."

Ari felt the chip in his head reactivate and the subsequent sensation this time was much different. He could still eavesdrop on the thoughts of all the people surrounding him… that much remained unchanged. This time, however, all of the voices were speaking at once…

_…All of them were speaking as ONE._

"_WE ARE NO LONGER SIMPLY BIOLOGICAL ORGANISMS._"

Struggling mightily to clear his head, Chancellor Veller fought desperately against the foreign blend of telepathic thoughts streaming through his conscious mind.

"_WE ARE MORE… WE ARE THE FULFILLMENT OF THE SUCCESSFUL BLENDING OF LIFE WITH TECHNOLOGY_."

Veller struggled for a few seconds longer, until the micro-chip in his brain finished identifying the neural pathways it needed to seize full control of his brain. The weight and harmony of several hundred unified voices all speaking simultaneously hammered through his independent thoughts like a heavy brick through a glass window. "_Noooo_," Ari Veller sighed in protest one final time. Then he looked up sharply with a distant, vacant look suddenly seizing control of his own eyes. In his mind, he could hear his own thoughts joining in with the rest of them.

"_WE ARE A COLLECTIVE CONSCIOUSNESS…_" His lips moved silently, mimicking the words.

"You could have been the _leader_ of this movement," Kalita snapped in the general direction of Chancellor Veller's paralyzed, alertly rigid stance. "We would have accepted you and worked with you to support the restoration of our society. But you _lied_ to me… you lied to _all_ of us." She moved casually forward until she was staring directly into his eyes. "Because of your treachery and that of the other leaders of your nation, our people will instead have a _Queen_," she told him defiantly. "_And after examining the research archived in your cloning facilities, I can confidently guarantee that our newly formed group consciousness will NEVER be without one_."

"_WE ARE THE BORG…_"

Months later, after harnessing the replicator technology inside the Scholar's computer, the remaining survivors from Ari Veller's world used their newfound design schematics, along with the anti-matter stored at military facilities across the Chancellor's country, to build additional warp driven space going vessels. Then they ventured out into space in blocky, cube-shaped ships designed for function above beauty, seeking out others who could add their voices to the diversity of the already powerful Collective. Eventually, nano-probe devices located on an inhabited planet in a nearby star system held the potential to further augment the Collective's capabilities. Unfortunately, the people who were native to that world were unwilling to part with the information needed to construct the tiny devices.

_Therefore, they became the first race to be assimilated._

By then, Kalita Rama had become fully addicted to the unlimited power granted her while controlling so powerful a group mind. Using transporter technology created from designs in the Scholar's computer, she beamed down former Lawgivers – each of them now wearing technology in place of one or more limbs – to key spots all across the planet's continents. Her minions were confrontational and direct, working relentlessly to implant technology in the aliens of that world and thereby add new minds to their growing network. Soon after the destruction of that first world, the newly christened Borg Queen instructed the Collective to split up their growing fleet and send ships exploring outward in all directions. Prior to implementation of that directive, the micro-chip technology was scrapped completely and each drone's mind received a larger, newly designed implant containing a subspace transceiver.

Eventually the Borg influence on the unsuspecting neighboring populations spiraled completely out of control. Soon everyone who remained living within the sector was forcibly connected with the powerful group mind. As the years passed, the Borg continued exploring farther and farther outward – searching for other star systems that contained planetary bodies capable of supporting humanoid life. And whenever they encountered new sentient species, the Borg continued to implant transceivers, prosthetic limbs, and any additional devices necessary to add even more minds into their ever-growing group consciousness. Their growing list of conquests invariably granted them new and innovative technologies that swiftly became part of their empire, improving their offensive and defensive capabilities as well as vastly speeding up the assimilation process.

Standard humanoid life as the Borg had known it ceased to exist soon after. Members of the group consciousness regularly created new hardware, attaching or implanting it in key drones that were now dedicated to specific tasks. For centuries to come, the Borg would become the scourge of the Delta Quadrant. Only those species that were considered primitive and unworthy of attention – those lacking sufficient technology or biological properties needed by the Collective – would be passed over by the roving cubes. A precious few additional cultures were advanced enough to conceal their presence or flee to other Quadrants in the galaxy. Eventually over the passage of time they would again be threatened, as the Borg painstakingly continued their non-stop research and gradually gained mastery over trans-warp.

Their expanding empire would stand for centuries… until a pair of unpredictable Katherine Janeways would bring the group consciousness crashing down. During the confrontation, the Queen's command and control would be irreparably corrupted and her precious Collective disrupted beyond repair.

_But they would destroy and assimilate countless trillions first_.

* * *

Alpha Quadrant, February 23, 2154, Aboard the _Thraex_

* * *

Dr. Tolian Soran stood quietly near a window on board the Preserver starship _Thraex_, watching the outer shell of a massive metallic sphere slowly take shape out in the hard vacuum of space. The initial pieces of its hull had been manually assembled by Ishiik and his Krell work force. It was no accident that Soran had chosen them – the Krell were extremely skilled at extra-vehicular activity. After fitting together the first hundred meters or so of metal by hand, the rest of the process was surprisingly simple. Already half a dozen massive replicators with large, magnetically charged wheels were moving steadily outward in different directions. Each of them had begun their journey from a central point on the inner curve of the planned sphere. The machines sprayed outward from their emitters a steady wave of slowly transforming crimson energy. Although the procedure at first looked haphazard to the untrained eye, the process was meticulously accurate – the replicators also used tractor beams to carefully arrange the newly created hull plating and hold each shimmering section firmly in place just long enough for it to finish materializing.

For Soran this process in particular was fascinating to watch, especially since partial sections of adjacent hull plating appeared already connected firmly together. Each machine's energy emitters easily kept pace with the speed with which they moved forward. As the minutes continued to pass, more and more of the Xindi superweapon's crucial inner shell continued to take shape. Already the Krell crew had activated the _Thraex_'s transporters, and another set of six industry-sized replicators was materializing along the edges of the inner surface. They too promptly activated and began moving outward, each carefully positioned on a precise path directly between two of the first six machines. Soran had been keeping a close eye on the construction for only half an hour now, and he shook his head with outright admiration while continuing to observe. Already he was looking at nearly seventy percent of an _entire_ hemisphere.

Halfway down the corridor, an inner airlock door opened with a loud metallic clanking sound. Four Krell re-entered the ship, returning from their recently completed duties. Since the unique physiology of the aliens allowed them to work directly in open space without the need for space suits, the extra freedom of motion – combined with their natural comfort in a weightless environment – left them perfectly suited for EVA work. One of the Krell paused, noticing Soran standing and intently studying the work taking place outside of the ship. He sent a telepathic 'nod' in the Doctor's direction to identify himself as Ishiik. The unspoken greeting was a common courtesy among his people, since the total visual darkness of their bodies generally shrouded them from any sort of visual recognition.

"I would think that the construction of the central power core taking place off the port side of the _Thraex_ would be much more fascinating to observe," Ishiik commented, moving silently across the corridor until he stood next to Soran. At more than seven feet in height he towered above the scientist like some sort of dark wraith. "At least there is some complex work involved with that. Hull plating, by comparison, is astonishingly simple to replicate."

"I don't care," replied the Doctor, his honesty brutal as always. "The speed at which your workers can create the initial sphere is astonishing… I've never seen anything like this. Once those replicators get going…" he paused, unsure how to finish his statement.

"…we are limited only by the number of replicators at our disposal," Ishiik nodded gracefully.

"And by the _power_ available to you," countered Soran teasingly.

Ishiik laughed darkly, his voice sounding even more gravelly than usual. "As you know, the _Thraex_ has an Omega-powered engine core," he pointed out. "So our power source, in this case, will be more than sufficient to assemble your superweapon." He reached out with his lengthy right arm and pointed toward the window and its view of the gradually forming sphere out in space. "You have given us a simpler task on this occasion… one that is far easier than what we are normally accustomed to."

The Doctor's curiosity was naturally piqued. "_Oh_?"

"Most certainly." Ishiik's arm fell almost immediately back to his side, vanishing against the empty blackness of his body. "Where we come from, this procedure is more commonly utilized to construct what you would call a Dyson sphere. Speaking from years of personal experience, _that_ is a project requiring considerably more power and resources."

Soran frowned for a moment, deep in thought. "I had always wondered what kind of technology was needed to construct those," he admitted. "For me, looking at the finished product has always been the one part of science that still seemed… almost _magical_ to me."

Again Ishiik chuckled with amusement. "The same basic concepts apply with but one simple difference," he told the Doctor informatively. "The sphere that is initially assembled around the central star is deliberately constructed to act as a solar collector. The outer protective hull casing and inner surface substances – soil and water, for example – are all added last."

"Ah," the Doctor responded with a grim smile. "You utilize the sun, which provides you with more and more energy. I would imagine that the sphere's construction speed increases exponentially."

"Indeed it does," Ishiik continued. "The larger the surface area of a sphere becomes, the more power it collects from the sun. Eventually, as the Dyson sphere continues to expand, we collect enough energy to replicate hundreds of thousands of additional industry-sized replicators… all of which continually move outward until all edges of the expanding sphere finally meet. We had a large collection of those very same replicators already aboard the _Thraex_, so we won't need to create any additional devices here in order to finish building your superweapon."

"Once we're done here, I can finally pay the Borg back for _all_ of their transgressions against peaceful cultures," promised Soran heatedly. "And ironically, we will do so _before_ they commit most of them."

Ishiik was silent for a moment, but eventually his curiosity got the better of him. "With the resources of the _Thraex_ at our disposal, we can use its engines to travel anywhere in time that you wish to," he reminded the Doctor. "So why don't we go _all_ the way back – to the very beginning? Why don't we show up where the initial Borg Collective formed and stop them _there_?"

Soran harrumphed loudly before lightly touching the electronic RI-CAD headset he wore. After that, he calmly folded his arms together in front of him. "Because I don't _know_ exactly where and when the Borg Collective formed," he snapped with dark amusement, his scientific mind appreciating the cruel irony of the situation. "Before we made the decision to come here, I didn't _dare_ risk using the subspace network. That's where the history files are archived, and accessing them would have tipped off everyone who monitors the flow of information that I request. Now that we are here, I _still_ can't retrieve the necessary data. If I do, I would risk alerting our peers in the distant future as to our exact whereabouts. That would trigger a pursuit mission before we are ready to confront them." He sneered disdainfully as he silently evaluated the problem for a moment. "I'm not afraid of the humanoids, but those androids and the sentient computer personalities used by the Preservers can be extremely difficult to outwit."

"What about the matter of the individual Borg drones?" persisted Ishiik. Of all the Krell aboard ship, he was the only one who felt comfortable enough around the Doctor to chance angering him. "A vast majority of them are consciously innocent of any wrongdoing. They used to be peaceful people who happened to survive the destruction of their home worlds long enough to be assimilated. Considering the horrors they are physically and mentally subjected to, many would argue that they have already paid a heavy price for the atrocities they commit."

Surprisingly, Soran laughed affectionately at the Commander's point of view. "I haven't completely decided yet just _how_ merciful we will be," he stated truthfully. "Our primary objective is to send the Queen a message… to let her know that we are coming for her and allow her time to fully realize there is _nothing_ she can do about it." He turned toward Ishiik, still smiling malevolently. "So ask me your question again, _after_ we have completed this superweapon and smashed a dozen or so Borg cubes into tiny, glowing little pieces."

"I will," the Krell promised. "I think we should spare as many as possible."

For quite some time, both of them continued to silently stand next to the window, patiently watching the partially completed metallic sphere grow steadily larger.


	5. Tacking Into The Wind

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Tacking Into The Wind

* * *

**

_Enterprise_ NX-01, Orbiting Risa, June 29, 2158

* * *

After a prolonged discussion with his unexpected visitor, Jonathan Archer left his quarters and entered the turbolift. He rode it eagerly to the top deck and stepped eagerly out onto the bridge. There the Captain noted with grim satisfaction that everyone he wanted to speak with was already present. Hoshi and Phlox had returned in shuttle pod one right after the Doctor completed his speech, this despite a flurry of protests from eager colleagues who wanted to continue to visit with him privately. "Perhaps we'll have the opportunity for a lengthier dialogue at the _next_ Convention," a very flattered Phlox informed them just prior to his rather hasty departure. "Unfortunately on this occasion, I have received an order to return to my ship."

Shuttle pod two, by contrast, had been extremely busy for awhile. All in all, Ensign Mayweather had made three separate round trips down to the planet in order to haul all of the off-duty personnel and MACOs back aboard. The entire command team had been out in space for some time now, so they were all very skilled at recalling personnel on short notice. The sound of the lift opening attracted his attention, and the well muscled, dark-skinned Mayweather smiled cheerfully in Archer's direction.

The Captain nodded at him and then surveyed the rest of the bridge complement before returning his attention to the Ensign. "Travis, make immediate preparations to break orbit."

"There's something serious going on, isn't there?" the Ensign speculated curiously. "Otherwise, there's no way you would _ever_ consider leaving a planet like Risa this soon after arriving."

"Yes," nodded Archer furtively, declining – for the moment – to comment further. He moved away from the turbolift just far enough to offer T'Pol a handheld scanner. "I believe the Agni white dwarf is located nearby," the Captain began slowly. "Please use the main computer to run the simulation parameters saved on this scanner and verify that the data stored here will suffice for our next mission."

The slim figured, dark-haired Vulcan Subcommander eyed him skeptically. "I am not aware of any new communications from Starfleet," she pointed out, obviously somewhat puzzled despite her normally level headed demeanor. "Has the pirate problem in this sector suddenly become a lesser priority?" Despite the voiced doubt, she turned obediently toward the sensor panel and immediately began running the telemetry he had given to her.

"You could say that."

Everyone stared at him with genuine surprise, especially Commander Tucker. Doctor Phlox was standing next to Hoshi's communications station, still visiting softly with her about their recent experiences on the away mission. Yet both of them also glanced up expectantly upon hearing the unexpected announcement that another assignment was probable. The Captain smiled reassuringly at all of the eager faces, and they patiently waited for him to explain matters in greater detail. His response was simple… the Captain glanced behind him, directly toward the still-open lift doors.

Data emerged from inside, still wearing an isomorphically simulated copy of his blue and black layered 29th century Starfleet uniform. After speaking privately for over an hour with Captain Archer, he had decided that honesty and half truths would have to suffice while interacting with Starfleet officers of this era. Even though he remained fully capable of lying, the android mind now directly connected to the Preserver sub-space network still 'felt' a strong, electronically simulated sense of loyalty to these people.

Although he had told a few minor falsehoods, Data had done his best to minimize lying to Benjamin Sisko during the recent Overseer crisis. Therefore, he was determined not to make a habit of deceiving trusted colleagues. Although he couldn't tell them everything regarding the reason for his surprise visit, he felt extremely confident that he could provide them with sufficient details to successfully gain their cooperation. He would obey the provisions of the new rules established to govern the Preserver subspace network, even in situations where he was not obligated to do so. He also planned to abide by the guidelines set forth in Starfleet's Temporal and Prime Directives.

"_Captain_…" stammered Lt. Malcolm Reed with surprise and suspicion. "I wasn't aware of any guests arriving aboard _Enterprise_. We have an _intruder_…"

Archer held up a firm right hand for emphasis. "Everyone, this is Captain Data," he informed them, turning toward his tactical officer. "Rest assured, he's a _friend_, Malcolm."

"If you say so, sir," Reed responded somewhat bluntly. His hand had drifted downward, in the general direction of the phase pistol attached to his belt. Archer's carefully controlled manner reassured him enough to return his attention to the console in front of him. Still, the tactical officer cast an occasional, inquisitive gaze in the direction of the newcomer, intently sizing him up.

"Data holds the rank of Starfleet Captain in the 29th century… specifically he used to command a Timeship called the _Relativity_."

Despite all of the things that his crew had seen and done since leaving Earth spacedock, Archer was not at all surprised to see most of the expressions on the faces turned in his direction fill immediately with obvious, understandable skepticism. "29th century… is that supposed to mean he's from the _future_?" wondered Tucker, appearing utterly unconvinced.

"Yes, he is," countered Archer, directly confronting the doubt in Trip's question. "Data just spent an hour correctly answering every question I asked him. And, trust me, I chose some tough ones."

Tucker remained doubtful. "Like what?" he asked hesitantly. "Did he successfully list your entire family tree or something?" The Commander folded his arms suspiciously in front of him. "Captain, over the years we've run into all _kinds_ of different aliens that can read our minds… sometimes even beings of pure energy who don't even _need_ physical bodies in order to exist in space…" He trailed off for a moment with frustration and then pointed at T'Pol. "Even _she_ can read your mind without your permission if she chooses to…"

Data had been silently studying them all, listening to their interaction and sizing everyone up. Despite the continued presence of his emotion software, his expression remained deadpan even upon hearing the comment about beings without physical bodies. Of course, the thoughts in his neural net crackled electrically with amusement at the irony of Tucker's comment but he wasn't concerned. To them, the projection he had created would scan as precisely in detail as his old android body would have. The isomorphic process was as near perfect a simulation as Preserver technology would allow. He moved suddenly, and Hoshi's eyes widened as the android Captain took several steps in her general direction.

"_You are about to be hailed, Ensign_," Data stated flatly, motioning toward her fully active panel.

"I'm afraid that I have to agree with the Commander," Lt. Reed chimed in suddenly. "We've encountered alien minds powerful enough to override our own personalities before," he pointed out. "What makes you believe that this situation is any different? What makes you believe that this isn't some sort of deceptive manipulation? If this person is indeed as powerful as he claims to be, then what in blazes does he need _us_ for?"

Unexpectedly, Hoshi's Comm-panel lit up brightly. "Enterprise, _this is Commander Shran of the Andorian Imperial Guard_," a confident, almost cocky sounding voice announced from the speaker. "_A suspicious looking vessel is covertly trying to slip into Risan orbit on the far side of the planet. Stand by, and we'll let you know if this is the ship that the party crashers you apprehended were expecting_."

"Acknowledged," the Ensign replied professionally upon receiving an approving nod from Archer.

Both Reed and Tucker were noticeably flustered by Data's prediction coming true so quickly. "What kind of alien humanoid are you?" asked Reed curiously, studying his golden eyes and skin tone.

"_I am humanoid in size and shape only_," the former Captain of the _Relativity_ answered, fully aware that this particular statement had never been more truthful. "_I am actually an android, with a fully sentient, computerized mind based on a positronic neural net. Using 29__th__ century technology, I can follow future events outside of this timeframe even as we hold this conversation_." Technically his description was the complete truth – as long as his mind was sentient, it really didn't matter what his body looked like. Over the passage of centuries, Starfleet traditionally recognized all life as valid despite trivial things like physical appearance. There was no doubt in his mind that he still was the life form that had been Data.

"An _android_?" Reed's glance shifted from Tucker to Mayweather before finally settling on the android. "Do you seriously want us to believe that you're a time traveling _computer_?"

"_Artificial life is the term that best describes me_," Data said, politely correcting him. He held out his hands and smiled. "_You are welcome to scan me if you wish. But I assure you, I am a sentient life form with an intelligence and life experience comparable to your own_." Not surprisingly, Phlox immediately took Data up on the offer, directing a quick series of medical scans in his direction.

"He's telling the _truth_," Archer interjected suddenly, putting a temporary end to questions he himself had already received an answer to. "Earlier, I asked Data for Earth's defense codes over the past month… _all_ of them. He was able to list each code in the correct sequence for each ship on the defense perimeter. If he wanted to attack Starfleet, he could do so with ease."

Tucker harrumphed loudly and shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "I think he read your _mind_ Captain. Trust our objective point of view – you're being influenced by an alien for purposes unknown. We have a _right_ to be skeptical."

The Captain whirled toward his Chief Engineer. "Did he also read _encrypted_ data out of our main computer?" Archer snapped sharply. "Since I was down on the planet's surface most of the time we've been in orbit, I haven't had the opportunity to memorize the latest updates yet."

This time it was T'Pol who played the role of devil's advocate. "For an android, such an exercise would be extremely easy," she cautioned him. "We have encountered people before who claimed to be someone they were not. Therefore it is imperative for us to remain skeptical in these situations until all doubt can be erased." She crossed the short distance between them and handed Archer his scanner. "The simulations you asked for indicate a ninety-eight point six percent probability of success, if _Enterprise_ is operating at peak efficiency when we implement the designated maneuvers."

"Trip?" Archer turned immediately toward the engineer. "Has your team completed the scheduled replacements on the support struts for our warp nacelles yet?"

"Captain, we just got back from the _planet_," Tucker reminded him. "A major repair procedure like that requires a full schedule, with _everyone_ in Engineering working overtime shifts. You'd fire me if I assigned just anybody…"

"Understood. When we're finished here, pull anybody you need from their normal duty assignments and get the necessary work done as soon as possible."

"Aye sir," acknowledged Tucker. "May I ask specifically what it is we're going to do?"

Data stepped forward with the poise and confidence of a trained commander. "_The future of Earth – and of Starfleet's plans for space-based exploration – is in extreme danger_," he declared. "_In order to save it along with many other worlds equally threatened, I need this ship and its entire crew to travel into that future and locate something for me_."

Both Phlox and Hoshi had been listening to the entire conversation. This time it was Phlox whose curiosity finally got the better of him. "_What_ do you need us to find? _Where_ do you need us to go that you – a visitor from the future – cannot go?" he asked with a distinct hint of skepticism in his tone.

Data regarded the Doctor thoughtfully before answering. "_The journey will be a perilous one. I need you to find something for me… something that is located on the Tholian home world_."

For quite some time after his startling revelation, only the electronic background beeps and humming from the active bridge consoles could be heard. The announcement predictably left everyone surrounding Data momentarily in stunned silence.

* * *

Minutes later, Archer intently studied T'Pol closely. His Vulcan Science Officer had taken a seat in one of the bridge chairs and was preparing herself for a mind meld. "Subcommander, you don't have to do this if you don't want to," he reminded her with obvious concern.

"You and Commander Tucker have correctly pointed out that we have to be certain," T'Pol reminded him. She glanced toward Data with interest, attempting to assess the android's honesty with one brief look. "This is the best way for me to discover whether or not our guest is attempting to deceive us."

"It will be risky," pointed out Phlox, scanning her with his medical equipment. "There is no way to predict how your physiology will react to a mind meld with an artificial intelligence."

"Humans often speak about the importance of trusting their instincts," T'Pol reminded him, trying to keep her statement from sounding like a lecture. "Although we are highly trained to repress emotion, Vulcans are also natural touch telepaths. Therefore, if Captain Data does indeed have a computerized mind as similar to a humanoid brain as he has described, there is an excellent chance I will be able to connect with it." She continued to study him with fascination. "Our main computer agrees with the information he has provided. _Enterprise_ should be able to survive the 'light speed breakaway' that he is suggesting we make use of. Whether doing so in the vicinity of the Agni white dwarf will actually catapult us out of the normal time stream – at this point I can only speculate on the matter unless we actually attempt the maneuver."

Data nodded in full agreement. "_The technique will be accidentally discovered approximately one century from now_," he informed them. "_Normally any star could be used, but your warp engine is less powerful than comparable starships in the future. Therefore, my adjusted calculations indicate that the gravitational field surrounding a white dwarf will suffice for our needs_."

Commander Tucker in particular remained doubtful. "You told Captain Archer that your job in the 29th century is to _protect_ the integrity of the timeline," he reminded Data. "So how does telling us _how_ to time travel one hundred years _before_ people in the future figure out how to do it accomplish your objective?" He exhaled with frustration. "_We_ could end up damaging our future just as easily."

"_Yes, however the historical trustworthiness of your command crew minimizes the statistical probability of such an outcome. Unfortunately, your future is at so great a risk that I have no other option_," Data stated bluntly, his complete lack of emotion sending a sudden chill down Tucker's spine. "_In order to protect the greater good, I am willing – on this specific occasion – to choose the lesser of two evils_."

"Is _this_ what Starfleet officers _do_ in the future?" demanded Tucker, refusing to give in despite Data's repeated warnings of danger. "Is _this_ the responsibility of a 29th century Starfleet officer – to play God with other people's lives? What gives you the _right_…?"

"_I could question you in a similar manner_," Data countered instantly. "_What gives your society the right to venture outward, to make decisions that directly impact the lives of others on alien worlds?_"

Trip held his temper in check, thinking the question over carefully before answering. "We are working extremely hard to form a lasting alliance with other species," he said finally. "If we can hammer out a peace agreement with them, many lives will be saved." He gestured toward the viewscreen and its lovely view of Risa rotating slowly below _Enterprise_. "Pirates like the ones that have recently stolen from ships and planets in this sector will be much easier to control, especially if a permanent alliance is created. Dozens of sectors currently at risk would be protected."

"_And yet – since you left Earth there have been people who have died… people who might normally have lived if you had not ventured out in _Enterprise _and interacted with them. Yet you have done so anyway, and you have done so for the greater good and only with the best of intentions_."

"Yeah… I guess that's true," Tucker admitted, glancing uneasily toward his work boots and the dark gray floor plating beneath them. "I guess, in a way, we end up making decisions that are mighty similar."

"_Your decisions are on a much smaller scale_," Data continued. "_That is why I have been entrusted with the power and responsibility that I currently hold. My colleagues and I are highly experienced in dealing with matters like this. On the temporal field of battle we have never been defeated, and yet there stand many who remain ready to tamper with time if only we hesitate to act just once_."

Trip looked helplessly toward T'Pol. "The situation that will affect our future is _that_ bad?"

"_Yes_," admitted Data. "_It is_."

"Then let's get on with this," suggested Archer, prodded by a growing urge to proceed. He was not an impulsive man, but he also wasn't the type of person to stand around waiting when he knew that trouble was brewing. Continuing to watch T'Pol, he smiled reassuringly at her. "I understand that mind melds are a very private, personal thing on Vulcan. Perhaps you would prefer to do this in your quarters…"

"In this case, I will be fine right here," T'Pol stated, failing to ease his concern. "I think it is important that there be many witnesses. All of you should carefully observe, listen, and watch for any odd reactions on my part. Hopefully, I will be able to sense any deceit while probing Data's consciousness."

Archer whirled around and faced Data imposingly. "I would remind you, sir, that I am entrusting you with the safety of someone who is very important to me and the successful operation of this vessel."

"_Your Science Officer will not be harmed_," the android promised. "_I will control the speed at which information flows between us and prevent her mental faculties from being overwhelmed. The procedure may at times be uncomfortable for her, and it will be during those times that I reduce the speed of our interaction until she has a chance to stabilize her mental control_."

"What information do you have in your own mind that will be off limits?" asked the Captain curiously.

Data's lips curled upward in a simulated smile. "_If you are to fully trust me, then nothing must be_." He walked over to stand next to Archer and lowered his head slowly but deliberately toward T'Pol. "_I have tagged all non-relevant subjects in my mind as personal or private,_"he stated informatively_. _"_In order to save time, I strongly suggest that you avoid these, if possible. If your instincts urge you to access any of them in order to conclusively prove that I am telling the truth, then you may feel free to do so. However, to protect the timeline for all species I ask that you search my mind only for the answers you specifically need to verify that I am telling the truth_."

T'Pol nodded in agreement and then raised the fingers of one hand to touch the side of Data's face…

* * *

_Her mind connected with Data's vast consciousness almost instantaneously at the first touch of her fingertips. There was no need to feel for any of the usual nerve clusters or wait for the other mind to respond to stimulation. It was as though he had been ready for her all along and simply initiated the contact as soon as she had prepared herself. "_Massive_." Her lips moved but she did not speak the word aloud, choosing instead to focus her efforts on analyzing what could only be described as a mind of enormous size. A majority of her people still regarded the mind meld process as morally outlawed… a completely forbidden subject. Other than on a few rare occasions out of scientific curiosity, T'Pol herself had normally obeyed those restrictions and chosen not to make use of the Vulcan mind meld. Even so she immediately recognized that this experiment was linking her with something new… something that was truly remarkable_.

_In the Vulcan Subcommander's mind, an image sprang to life. She was standing in a desert on Vulcan, looking at an exact duplicate of herself. Curious, she moved toward her alter ego and reached out with a tentative index finger. Reacting like a mirror image, the other T'Pol in turn approached her and pointed the same finger in her direction. The tips touched, and she discovered that she couldn't feel anything physically. Ripples of what appeared to be water spread rapidly outward from the point of contact, but deep down she knew that there was no water here. The image of herself took a step backward and instantly transformed into the familiar image of Data. Despite his normally calm demeanor outside of the mind link, he smiled cheerfully at her_.

**This is not a single mind I have touched**, _her instincts suggested upon an initial analysis_. **This is something much more vast and comprehensive**.

_The other presence that was Data took a step closer to her_. **Correct**, _he replied firmly_. **What you sense is the first wall I have put in place. Here and in the future, I have access to a vast archive of alien knowledge. It is shared by many other users, and that is why you sense so broad a presence. I strongly suggest that you focus on me and on locating what you need to know**.

_For a moment, T'Pol was perplexed_. **What do I NEED to know?**

_His friendly expression never changed, and the two of them continued to watch each other intently_. **You are a Vulcan**_, Data responded_. **Analyze my request for assistance… what doubts do you have? What doubts would your Captain have? Commander Tucker has already voiced several of them…**

_T'Pol tried to nod, but an overwhelming weight continued to press forcefully on her mind. She was new at this, and it was blatantly obvious to her that Data was deliberately shielding her from a tremendous amount of additional interactive thought. She fully realized that so great a vulnerability on her part left her in a position to be easily manipulated, but she pressed onward nonetheless_. _**Enterprise**_** would have difficulty moving into Tholian space even here in my time**_, she observed cautiously_. **If we take your advice and travel into the future, their technology will be even more advanced. Since the Tholians have traditionally been extremely hostile toward all who enter their territory, what makes you think that any mission launched by us could ever hope to succeed?**

**Excellent**_, Data noted with approval_. **Remember, the simulation that Captain Archer asked you to run earlier has proven that your crew can successfully move **_**Enterprise**_** into the future. It is there that you will have the best opportunity to approach the Tholian home world. For a few days after your arrival, a majority of their military attention is focused almost completely on another incident. If your vessel approaches from the opposite direction, there is a strong probability that an away mission to the surface of their planet will succeed**.

_T'Pol grew suddenly inquisitive_. **If we locate their planet, what do you expect us to do there?**

**I cannot tell you until you arrive at your destination. If any of you are captured, the less that you know the better off everyone will be**…

_As her meld with the mind of Captain Data continued, the Subcommander was gradually learning how to perceive more and more. So she sensed honesty and true disappointment from Data as he declined to comment further on the subject. She could tell that he sincerely wanted to be fully honest with her, but he also didn't want to endanger their chances on a mission that he hoped they would agree to. So she accepted his statement, for the moment, and decided to move on_.

**Tholian vessels normally contain an atmosphere heated in excess of 450 degrees Kelvin. It is likely that their home world is also extremely hot. What you're proposing amounts to an extremely perilous away mission… it would test the abilities of our crew to their very limits**.

**Yes**.

**Why not recruit a Starfleet crew from the time period you want us to travel to?**

**Because**, _Data responded with a tangible note of sadness evident in his manner_. **Shortly after that point in time, your future – all of what could be – steadily begins to decay. Your command team is best suited to keep most of my secret… your people can do this and minimize any residual temporal footprint**.

_Like a complex series of puzzle pieces linking together, everything abruptly came into focus for T'Pol. Searching through their shared mind, she studied all of the barriers Data had put in place to protect both her and information he considered to be highly sensitive. It was as if she had 'blinked' mentally, and then suddenly perceived more than she had previously been able to detect. Her attention kept returning toward one 'door' in particular, specifically the one that led to the massive archive of intellect that she sensed lurking just behind it_. **Prior to the meld, you stated that I could go anywhere**_, she reminded him_. **What if I want to determine SPECIFICALLY what is in there… to discover the secret behind your connection to all those other minds?**

**Just because I will not stop you from entering an area of my mind that holds secrets does not mean that you should**_, Data reminded her_. **You could easily learn things that would compromise your own future, or the future of people that you care about. There is also the potential for direct damage to your neural pathways, since a biological mind has significantly more limitations than my own neural net**.

**What would you suggest?**

_One of the barriers suddenly vanished_. **Go here**_, the android suggested to her_. **Take a look at the future that almost certainly WILL BE if you do not assist me**.

_Eager to absorb the information, T'Pol rushed into the newly opened neural pathway much faster than she should have. She felt her physical body convulse as wave after wave of horrific visions unexpectedly impacted against her conscious mind. Back on the bridge she sensed the sudden onrush of Archer and Tucker as they moved to assist her, but she concentrated with grim determination and both men hesitated upon seeing her body's shaking stabilize. Even if they pulled her away from Data, the link was now so strong she doubted they could break it without his permission to do so. Fully focused on the new data stream and concentrating hard as she was presented with a series of visions, T'Pol watched with what amounted to the Vulcan equivalent of disbelief_.

_First the Vulcan female was looking down from above at a peaceful civilization – a shining city on some unknown alien world. Even as she watched, powerful glittering green tractor beams fired downward, piercing the clouded sky above and carving up large sections of land. People who had been walking the streets suddenly glanced upward with sudden terror, and then entire city blocks – along with the ground underneath them – began slowly rising up into the air. Skyscrapers tottered back and forth from the subsequent planet quakes and roads came apart at the seams. Most of the people began panicking, while others who managed to control their fear steadfastly began looking for places of safety. Nevertheless, the streets rapidly began filling with people and the resulting crowds swiftly became chaotic. The disaster was all around them, leaving no chance for escape._

_Next, eerie swirls of whirling green energy appeared everywhere as mysterious humanoid beings began materializing in the midst of the city's people. The invaders were cyborgs of some sort, humanoid in appearance only. Although most of them still possessed some semblance of biological flesh and blood, the majority of their bodies – including entire limbs and internal organs – had at some point been replaced with technology. Metal armor protected their torsos, scarlet laser beams fired from sighting mechanisms attached to their temples, and everywhere that they possessed skin T'Pol could see oval and star-shaped metallic implants that had seemingly popped out from the inside. At least one eye on a majority of the aliens had been replaced or enhanced with some sort of electronic attachment. Like powerful, mechanized zombies the creatures immediately and relentlessly pursued the helpless citizens. Even more terrifying, whoever they caught stopped screaming for help almost immediately – somehow, she noted, the aggressors were converting those very same innocents into _more_ of themselves!_

_The image in her mind shifted once more, this time toward the interior of a colossal alien spaceship. The remnants of the planet's major cities had all been dumped into a huge landing bay along with civilian and military space vessels pulled in from orbit. Anyone still alive was quickly approached and converted into one of the menacing, cybernetic aliens. T'Pol watched with stirrings of revulsion deep inside as the remaining few mothers, fathers, and even small children who had survived the quick trip into orbit suddenly stared vacantly ahead while metallic implants popped out from inside their skin and unfolded outward across their flesh. Most of the newly converted waited patiently, obviously not yet fully transformed. Yet some of the civilians – people who only moments ago had been fighting desperately against the invaders – now assisted in holding others firmly in place so that they too could be converted into enemy soldiers._

_The invaders wasted nothing, scavenging all of the available technology and leaving behind large chunks of empty land, broken roads and ruined buildings. Lastly, the shattered remnants of the land stolen from the planet's surface and its cities dissolved away – converted into energy that was swiftly funneled into enormous replicators. The alien vessel was already gargantuan in size, and yet additional hull plating, interior decks and new power systems began to materialize at strategically pre-planned locations along the vessel's exterior hull. The answer to her puzzlement struck T'Pol almost immediately – obviously the enemy soldiers needed to create the additional room in order to accommodate their stolen equipment and suddenly enlarged 'crew'. Even from high orbit, it was blatantly apparent that huge areas of the planet's surface had simply been scooped up and lifted away. The devastation to the once thriving society and its resource-laden, habitable planet was total._

**This is what will happen**_, Data promised her as images of additional similar attacks continued to shift from planet to planet in her mind. Many of the species attacked were Alpha Quadrant aliens that were immediately recognizable to her_. **The invading creatures call themselves Borg, and if your crew does not help me they will soon overwhelm and dominate your entire galaxy**.

_**How?**_ _wondered T'Pol, her fierce control of the emotions flowing through her mind allowing the Vulcan to continue focusing on the conversation_. **How could this possibly happen?**

**The Borg attack anyone who possess technology or resources that are useful to them**_, continued Data_. **Their minds are linked together - they function collectively as a hive mind, assimilating everything that adds to or improves their group consciousness. At some point shortly after the time period I am asking **_**Enterprise**_** to travel to, these aliens will acquire technology they should not yet have – technology from the FUTURE. This will allow them to expand their influence even faster than they normally would have. Cultures who would normally be alerted to their presence well in advance and have adequate time to improve their defenses will now have a much smaller chance of protecting their people against so aggressive a threat**.

_Despite her emotional control, T'Pol felt deep tendrils of anger well up inside of her_. **Who would give them that technology?**

_The length of his hesitation before answering allowed her time to detect sincere concern from Data… he was worried about telling her too much_. **Trading one wrecked future for another is not the solution I am after**_, he declared finally._** On that subject, please do not ask to know more. I can tell you that the Borg take what they need… rarely does anyone freely give them anything**.

_Again she pressed him_. **My trust must be earned. I need to know more, even if it is information about future events. I need to be able to tell Captain Archer that his instincts are correct**.

**Understood, if that is what you wish**_, agreed Data, his android nerves of steel holding up much better than hers_. **Next I would suggest that you study the incident in the future that will divert attention away from your intrusion on the Tholian home world**_. Another mental doorway tempted her_. **Prepare yourself, because these images will be equally intensive and emotionally difficult to view**.

_Already T'Pol felt mental exhausted, even as she tried mightily to accept his offer. Realistically though, and faced with yet another potential flood of emotionally unsettling events, T'Pol concluded reluctantly that she was finished. It was a difficult decision, but she sensed absolutely no deception from the android. Logic therefore dictated that remaining in the link to satisfy mere curiosity would be dangerous and simply waste valued time_. **I have seen enough**_, she decided resolutely with no additional hesitation_. **It is time for me to sever this link**.

**Done**.

* * *

T'Pol's eyes snapped open and she recoiled unexpectedly backward in the chair she was sitting in as though physically jolted by electricity. At first her vision remained blurred, but even so firm hands gripped her by the shoulders and held her steady long enough for the still shaken Vulcan to recover her wits. The fingers of her hands closed tightly around the armrests of the chair – she used the physical contact to something tangible. It helped her stabilize her thoughts much more quickly. Undeniably, the meld had connected her to the most powerful mind she had ever touched, and its after effects lingered for several critical moments that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Somewhat surprisingly, it was her hearing that fully returned first.

"_T'Pol_," Archer's voice burned deep into her consciousness, calm but insistent. She struggled again to clear the recent memories from her mind, thoughts that were still swirling chaotically with the images of death and destruction that she had so recently witnessed. "T'Pol, can you _hear_ me? Are you all right?"

The Vulcan Subcommander inhaled deeply, struggling to regain her composure. "_T'Pol!_" This time it was Commander Tucker, and his familiar face suddenly came into focus as her vision cleared. She focused on him and his human need to excessively concern himself with her welfare, continuing to breathe slowly in and out and chase away the persistent nausea and dizziness.

"I am all right," she reassured them, letting go of the chair's armrest with her right hand and clutching eagerly at Archer's forearm. "There was a significant amount of information to process… Data's android consciousness is an extremely powerful presence."

"Well _there's_ the understatement of the year," chuckled Tucker somewhat hesitantly, watching her closely as though he still expected her to faint or something. "Your _eyes_ were glowing bright _white_," he informed her, pointing at his own for emphasis. "It's the weirdest thing I ever saw, and on this ship that's really sayin' something. For awhile there you went into a convulsive fit that really scared us. We were ready to rip you away from him if things got any worse, but you did it T'Pol… you _handled_ it."

"This was… necessary," she told them, continuing to breathe and exhale in a precise, carefully controlled manner. Slowly but surely, she could feel her focused, internal mental controls returning to full strength. If he had chosen to, she had no doubt that Data could easily have killed her.

"Well?" Archer was not just her Captain, but also a colleague and friend. He glanced toward Dr. Phlox, who was scanning the Vulcan Science Officer's medical status.

The Doctor studied the results displayed on his equipment for a moment, and then shrugged while flashing his unusually wide smile. "As you might expect, there was a significant amount of neural activity in her brain throughout the meld. But all of T'Pol's vital signs are gradually returning to normal… I can't find any sign of permanent damage."

"Well that's a relief," nodded Tucker with obvious relief. He looked at her skeptically. "Do you feel any different, Subcommander?"

"No."

Archer helped the Vulcan to her feet. "Well… what do you think?" he asked her expectantly.

T'Pol looked into his eyes, her demeanor once again calm and controlled. "I believe we need to do precisely what Captain Data has suggested we do," she informed him. "There was no evidence of any deception during our shared link – in fact, he allowed me access into any part of his mind that I wished to see into." Her tone hinted of a much deeper fascination while remembering the meld. "His thoughts are very disciplined and organized… even his electronically-generated emotional subconscious."

"A computer with a subconscious," Tucker chuckled. "Now I've heard everything."

Archer pressed his face into his hands, inhaling deeply as though he was massaging all remaining doubt out of his eyes. Then he looked up with grim determination. "Trip, get your teams working on those replacement struts immediately. I want all of them swapped out as soon as possible."

"Aye sir. I assume you'll be needing the warp engine to get us to Agni, so we'll replace 'em one at a time en route." He pointed toward a member of his engineering staff – a woman standing at the rear of the bridge. Together the two of them entered the turbolift and vanished behind its closing doors.

"What the devil am I supposed to tell Starfleet?" asked the Captain curiously.

"_Tell them nothing for now_," Data suggested. "_If you are successful, the gravity field surrounding the white dwarf can be used a second time to return your vessel to this time frame_."

"How close to the point where we leave?"

"_Precise computations will allow you to return within minutes of your departure_."

"Travis, set a course for the Agni white dwarf and take us there immediately… maximum warp."

"Aye sir."

Turning sharply in space, _Enterprise_ leapt suddenly forward, accelerating toward the distant stars.

* * *

_Enterprise_ NX-01, Near the Agni White Dwarf, July 4, 2158

* * *

Nearly five days later, everyone from the command team once again assembled on the bridge in preparation for the first attempt at time travel. "Tactical alert," Archer ordered crisply. They had all had adequate time to prepare themselves, and yet most of them still felt understandably tense.

"Aye, Captain," responded Lt. Reed.

Beads of sweat were forming on Travis Mayweather's forehead in anticipation of the dangerous maneuvering that would soon be required. He was a "space boomer", though, a human born off planet and naturally acclimated to all of the lures and dangers found in deep space. Since leaving the _Horizon_ cargo carrier to serve aboard _Enterprise_, Travis had endured many hardships and pressure situations. He also proudly possessed memories of adventures that would last a lifetime… someday he hoped to tell his grandchildren all about them.

"Use extreme caution Ensign," cautioned T'Pol. "All navigational coordinates are set."

"Aye," he acknowledged with a firm nod. "Here goes."

Traveling at warp one point five, the NX-01 starship veered to starboard and began a sharp curve around the white dwarf. The stellar object was barely visible in the center of the screen, emitting just enough residual energy to mark its presence as one slightly larger than normal star amongst a background of millions. Less than a minute later _Enterprise_ completed its first faster than light orbit of Agni while continuing to edge gradually closer. Watching the hull stress and inertial dampening levels closely, Mayweather swallowed heavily and throttled up to warp one point nine.

Commander Tucker was also looking for signs of danger. "This is _extremely_ risky Captain," he reminded Archer. "If something goes wrong while we're in the middle of that gravity field…"

The Captain was sitting calmly in the center seat, his elbows on his knees and his chin setting on top of his folded hands. "It's just a simple spiral inward around a heavy gravity well," replied Archer confidently, studying the image of the Agni dwarf on the viewscreen.

"Sure it is," chuckled Tucker. "A simple spiral inward while _accelerating_ at warp speed – that's the tricky part that could easily get everyone killed!"

"Centrifugal pressure on the portside hull is building," T'Pol stated informatively. "I'm adjusting the polarization of the hull plating to compensate. Inertial dampeners remain at green status."

"Warp two point four," announced Travis proudly, double-checking the readings. Around them, the walls and deck plating began to shake steadily – a gradual rumble at first that escalated rapidly. They had prepared the bridge well in advance of the expected turbulence. For safety purposes, everything that wasn't nailed down or physically attached to someone's body had been meticulously removed.

"Inertial dampeners are yellow lining," announced T'Pol. "I'm compensating." She worked coolly and swiftly – seconds later the vibrations dwindled almost completely away.

_Enterprise_ was now completing an orbit of Agni every four point three seconds while the distance between the white dwarf and the starship continued to decrease. The engine output, combined with the strong pull from the gravity well, stretched the starship's surrounding warp bubble forward. And as time continued to tick slowly away, its unusual formation began to have a noticeable effect.

"Warp five point nine!" Travis gasped with shocked disbelief. "Captain, that's supposed to be impossible for this ship! The outer hull will never…"

"Data's calculations indicate that the hull _will_ hold for a few more minutes," Archer reminded him tersely. "T'Pol has checked those figures and agreed with his assessment. She has also pre-programmed our hull plating polarization and defensive systems to compensate."

The Captain was also feeling the anxiety of the situation, and he silently reminded himself to calm down. It didn't help matters much when Trip's engineering console suddenly erupted in sparks and flames. White electrical smoke whirled upward and began immediately to curl, driven primarily by the path of the bridge's air flow. The acrid scent from the electrical fire began to spread as well. Tucker sighed heavily and grabbed a portable fire extinguisher so that he could promptly douse the flames. Unfortunately, none of the indicators on the console showed any active status lights. "I'll have to spend the rest of this adventure down in Engineering Captain," the Commander decided with concern.

"It's too late for that Trip," T'Pol noted suddenly. "Approaching breakaway point in five, four, three, two, one…" she watched the status console carefully, making certain that all crucial systems remained at mid-yellow status. Glancing toward Mayweather, she nodded for him to proceed. "Breakaway… _now_."

The Ensign accepted the order and proceeded to turn _Enterprise_ on its axis, rotating it swiftly and efficiently ninety degrees to port. The full output of their engine was suddenly directed toward pulling them fully away from the white dwarf. Instantly the elongated warp bubble reversed itself, this time pulling away from the back of the starship. Unable to resist the lure of the nearby white dwarf, the lengthy, trailing edge of the bubble followed the laws of physics and continued pointing directly toward the center of the heavy gravity field, even as the starship's high speed forward momentum kept it spiraling in its tight orbit of Agni. Around them, the bridge shook as though the mighty hand of God itself had reached out to swat _Enterprise_. Tucker had moved away from his console toward the turbolift before pausing at T'Pol's warning. Now he held tightly to the handrail in front of him for support as the ship bucked to and fro – its engines struggling mightily to pull the vessel outward while the gravity behind tried to maintain its firm hold.

In the end, precision calculations combined with the reliability of the tough, warp five engine yanked _Enterprise_ free of the white dwarf's pull. Primary lighting went out, shrouding most of the bridge in complete darkness. Only the winking green, yellow and red status indicators from still-active consoles remained. The viewscreen's image had cut out too – something that rarely ever happened. For one brief moment everything went completely dark, and the screaming moan from the warp engine half convinced Tucker that the embattled ship was about to come completely apart. The tumultuous pounding from the aggravated waves that comprised the surrounding gravitational field held on to them for one second longer. Then the starship rocketed swiftly away from Agni at high warp.

Auxiliary power activated backup lighting systems, but Archer discovered that he still couldn't see properly… his vision had blurred. Something truly unusual was happening, something Data had already informed them _would_ happen. Even so, until they actually experienced the phenomenon for themselves, no one could possibly imagine how it would feel. The Captain held up a hand and waved it in front of him, trying to refocus his vision. In the back of his mind he could hear a random series of voices, and there were unexpected, astonishing images too… visions of a crystalline alien world unlike anything he had ever seen before. Then the forward momentum of the starship slowed abruptly, and he was thrown completely out of his chair. Archer stumbled forward uncontrollably before landing heavily on his chest and losing consciousness.

* * *

The darkness of oblivion gradually turned into a dull gray light, followed by a dawning awareness of familiar images whirling around him. Jonathan Archer slowly fought his way back to consciousness. Even so, the hot flush of dizziness in his mind remained for another half minute before he finally remembered where he was and what had been going on.

"Captain… Captain, are you all right?"

Archer's eyes snapped open and he noticed that someone had rolled him onto his back. T'Pol was standing over him, looking down at his pale expression with only subtly concealed Vulcan concern. "I think I'm okay," he replied brusquely, trying to sit up. Another wave of dizziness and nausea passed through him. "What the hell _was_ all that? For awhile there, it felt like trying to move through water!"

"Really? That wasn't my impression," countered Reed. "It felt more like walking through molten lava." He held out both hands, studying the tips of his fingers. "My hands still feel like they're on fire."

"Enterprise _tore a hole in time_." Behind T'Pol, Data had at some point reappeared on the bridge. "_Congratulations to you and your crew, Captain. You were successful_."

"Yeah, sure," Archer decided rather sullenly, the glum mood quite unlike him. "Now all we have to do is make it to Tholia and back." He glanced with concern toward other members of the bridge crew, many of whom were still picking themselves up and checking themselves for signs of serious injury. "And if we complete your impossible mission, we get to go through _this_ again."

"_Do not be so concerned with the 'big picture' at this point_," suggested the android firmly. "_As this mission progresses I will be able to provide you with significant additional assistance_."

"Well, you can _start_ any time!" snapped Archer heatedly. Once again, he had to check himself and back down. The intensity of what they had just been through was still foremost in his memory, and his anxiety – driven primarily by events beyond his ability to control – was the major factor fueling his aggression.

Data's smirk returned, and for the first time the Captain found it slightly irritating. Even so, the android's next announcement caught him by surprise. "_I will begin helping immediately, Captain Archer. I hope you didn't think I had planned for your vessel to approach Tholia without assistance_."

Somewhat puzzled, Archer concentrated more closely on the area immediately behind Data… an electronic whine emanated from that point. Astonishingly, two _new_ strangers materialized directly behind him in a shimmering blaze of white light. One of the new arrivals was a tall, muscular dark-skinned human male. The other was a confident looking, attractive female with long red hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Both of them were wearing similar Starfleet uniforms – however the style of these two differed significantly from Data's own uniform. "Just how many _different_ time periods do you people work in?" the Captain asked curiously. He touched a bruise on his right temple tentatively, ignoring the sudden burst of fresh pain that followed.

"_Jonathan Archer, may I introduce to you Benjamin Sisko and Kathryn Janeway_," Data stated courteously. His confident, almost nonchalant expression somehow reassured many of the doubts Archer had held throughout the journey around the white dwarf. "_Both of these people are skilled Starfleet Captains, and they will be of great assistance to you should the need arise to confront the Tholians_."

"Like Data, we're temporal agents," Janeway informed them. "And we generally go where the work is… wherever our presence is needed. Both of us have worked on other missions similar to this one… although, until recently, we were technically sentient holograms."

_Too much information_, Archer thought silently to himself. _I don't even know what that last part means_! Aloud, he addressed Sato. "Hoshi, can you lock onto any Federation communications frequencies? Can you verify that we _are_ indeed where we are supposed to be?"

She nodded, touching her earpiece lightly while eavesdropping on electronic message traffic in the vicinity. "Many of the higher level local transmissions are definitely Starfleet in origin, but most of them are encrypted and beyond the capabilities of our main computer to decipher without further study," she informed them. "However, I _can_ read the simpler, basic information frequencies such as ship identification beacons… those types of communication packets don't appear to have changed much over the years." She paused, listening carefully and then used her console to download additional telemetry.

He knew she was working as quickly as he could, but a mild burst of impatience got the better of him. "What else Hoshi?"

Sato chose not to respond for almost a minute, continuing to cycle her earpiece receiver rapidly between messages in search of something useful. "I'm also receiving a chronometer signal bouncing between space-base relay beacons and what appear to be star bases," she nodded finally. The petite Ensign glanced up with a mixture of elation and astonishment. "_Captain_, the current time and date read as 1527 hours on July 23, 2268! It seems as though we really _did_ move forward through time!"

Data flashed a light smile of approval. "_I will be leaving you now, in the competent hands of my two colleagues_." He gestured casually in the general direction of Benjamin Sisko and Kathryn Janeway. "_They will provide you with specific target coordinates for your mission to Tholia. When you reach our primary objective, I will appear again and assist you further with everything that needs to be done_."

The image of the android Captain turned slowly transparent, eventually vanishing completely.

Sisko walked to the center of the bridge, pausing once he reached Mayweather at the helm station. His gaze shifted to Archer, who was slowly rising to his feet while continuing to work toward clearing his mind of the residual after effects of their recent passage through time. "Another Starfleet vessel from this era is already on its way here," the Deep Space Nine Captain informed them. "They are on a classified mission from Starfleet, and will enter Tholian space. We need to move quickly and position the white dwarf between _Enterprise_ and their planned course. I think you will agree, Captain Archer, that it is best that they do not see us."

Feeling a bit helpless, Archer shrugged in reply. "It would probably be best if we didn't see _them_ either. But we're going to." Nevertheless, he nodded in agreement toward Mayweather. "Do as he says Travis. Move us back into the Agni gravity field."

"First I need to know _where_ to hide us," protested Travis. "Specifically, from which direction will the other ship be coming from?"

Sisko gestured toward the navigation console. "May I?" he asked patiently. Mayweather nodded, allowing the newcomer to swiftly input a set of coordinates. "Follow this course."

"Aye," agreed the Ensign. "That's a pretty close orbit. This is going to be a bumpy ride… but not nearly as bad as last time."

Firing up the warp drive, Travis moved _Enterprise_ back toward Agni at a steady warp two. The starship backtracked swiftly, and once they neared the now familiar stellar object he decelerated the vessel to sublight velocity. Activating the impulse thrusters for more precision maneuvering, Mayweather guided them slowly back through the gravity well. Their course, this time, was significantly less aggressive.

* * *

They waited over six hours until the other vessel arrived. By the time it did, Commander Tucker and his damage control teams had finished assessing _Enterprise_'s status. Fortunately, the ship had sustained only minimal damage during its perilous inward spiral around Agni. Additionally, Dr. Phlox reported several minor crew injuries, but nothing major. The biggest surprise of the day, as things turned out, was yet to come. T'Pol carefully studied the sensor telemetry feed, looking downward into its thin rectangular screen as blue light emanating from inside played across the contours of her face. "There _is_ another vessel out there," she reported finally. "Its course is taking it directly toward Tholian space."

"Once they're far enough away, we're going to need your warp drive again," observed Janeway. She was standing next to T'Pol, using the opportunity to read over her shoulder and also examine incoming data. "Captain Sisko will provide you with the coordinates to take us in a circular course around their territory. That will allow the Captain of the other ship the necessary time he needs to attract the attention of the Tholian combat ships. Once they're lured out of their normal patrol pattern, we can enter their territory safely and have our best chance to approach their home world unnoticed."

"In all probability, we will doubtless run into a few of those patrol vessels," protested Archer firmly. "Does 'act of war' still mean anything in the future?"

"Indeed it does," Janeway replied sternly. "The reason the other starship has been ordered here is because the Tholians have _already_ committed significant hostile actions of their own." She smiled dryly. "Action needed to be taken, on this occasion, to halt a growing Tholian aggression and make them think twice about attacking Federation vessels."

"Federation," Archer repeated softly. "I've heard that term before." His eyes fixed firmly on Janeway's expression. "I sincerely hope Captain Data has no objections to our debriefing the two of you. I have many more questions."

"We'll answer everything we possibly can," agreed Sisko. "And I think you'll find that we've brought along with us significant intelligence data – exactly what will be needed in order for this mission to conclude successfully."

"_Captain_!" Hoshi gasped suddenly. "You're _not_ going to believe this!"

The stunned tone of Sato's voice amused him, causing Archer to swivel in his seat and face her. "It has already been a day full of unexpected revelations, Ensign," he reminded her. "What have you discovered this time?"

Her eyes flicked upward, wide with amazement. "Do you remember when I told you earlier that Starfleet ship identification beacons are still readable?"

"Yes."

"Well, I just tapped into the ID trace from the other Starfleet ship," she informed him. "The registration code that it's transmitting reads as NCC-1701… _U.S.S. Enterprise_!"

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_ _I'm leaving behind a fresh pair of socks for my good friend Le'letha. If I'm right, (and I hope I am), then this Chapter just blew the socks off of her again!_


	6. Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

* * *

**

From Wikipedia, the free on-line encyclopedia…

* * *

_**Inter arma enim silent leges**__ is a Latin phrase meaning "For among [times of] arms, the laws fall mute," although it is more popularly rendered as "In times of war, the law falls silent." This maxim was likely first written in these words by Cicero in his published oration Pro Milone, although Cicero's actual wording was "__**Silent enim leges inter arma.**__"

* * *

_

Delta Quadrant, February 23, 2154, Aboard the _Thraex

* * *

_

Smiling with anticipation, Dr. Tolian Soran curiously studied the seemingly chaos-driven intricacy that comprised the design of a Borg cube. The crew of the _Thraex_ had located one with ease shortly after arriving in the Delta Quadrant with plans to put the first stage of their plan into operation. Currently the Borg vessel was holding a steady course on a routine patrol pattern. The motive was obvious – a relentless search designed to locate and attack anyone or anything possessing relevant technology. Telemetry covertly downloaded from one of the drones on board had already confirmed what Soran already suspected. Nothing had changed and the Borg were doing what they always did. They were taking what they needed with a complete lack of compassion for those whom they killed or assimilated.

"There are no rules in war," mused the Doctor thoughtfully. "Especially not in _this_ one."

As usual, Ishiik was standing loyally by his side. This time, however, the entire bridge was filled with additional Krell. Their tall, ebony silhouettes moved back and forth as the entire shift complement worked steadily to prepare the vessel for combat. "Our temporal shielding has been adjusted," Ishiik informed Soran. "We can safely weaken our shields by as much as sixty percent. The reduced setting will allow us to defend ourselves against the Borg and still allow the timeline to 'reset us' if there is an incursion. The upper frequency band surrounding the ship will remain at its normal level, protecting our neural activity. If anyone detects our tampering here and comes back in time looking for us, we should be able to remember the original incident even if we physically adjust to the change."

"With the shields partially lowered, will the Borg be able to detect any trace of the Omega molecules powering our engine core?"

"No," replied Ishiik confidently. "Although I thought you planned to use that as bait."

Soran smiled wryly at his colleague. "Not just yet," he stated firmly. "We don't want every Borg vessel in the Delta Quadrant swarming toward us until the construction of our primary weapon is completed. First we have to determine whether or not my old 'friends' from the future have decided to launch a 'rescue' mission." He stroked the tip of his chin thoughtfully with his right hand. "They are almost certainly looking for us since they can only suspect what I'm up to. But I must admit… I will be _extremely_ disappointed if they do locate us and choose to side with the _Borg_. We need to conduct this test – I need to know how closely they're watching me." He paused, taking a deep breath as he readied himself mentally. "Lower our temporal shields to forty percent please."

One of the Krell standing behind Ishiik touched a control console. "Done," his deep voice boomed.

The thrill of looming combat escalated Soran's blood pressure. His concept of battle, however, was more of a bully mentality. "Fire our targeting lasers," he ordered, watching as his order was instantly obeyed and a half dozen thin red beams fired outward from the _Thraex_. All of them touched the Borg cube in different places and instantly began roving across its surface, driven by sensor systems searching for vulnerable power sources inside. Instantly detecting the incoming energy, the enigmatic, intimidating cube-shaped vessel promptly dropped out of warp and slowed to a virtual halt in space.

"Sensor emissions from the Borg vessel have increased by ten thousand percent," observed Ishiik.

"Drop our cloak," Soran snapped. "Let them see us."

Seconds later, the response from the cube was entirely predictable. A pair of tractor beams fired through the _Thraex_'s targeting lasers in an attempt to tear down the Preserver starship's shields. When that didn't work, a barrage of powerful, high impact particle beams slammed home against the partially raised shielding. Even at the lower setting, the _Thraex_'s shields completely repelled the Borg onslaught. The thin green particle beams continued impacting hard against the shields, creating a coruscating yellow and gold flash wherever they touched. Soran's elation was total as he realized that even a Preserver _electronics_ vessel was substantially more powerful than anything his enemy could throw at them.

"Our plasma cannon is fully charged and ready," reported Ishiik with a pleased chuckle. Next to him, a communications panel lit up in response to an incoming hail. With one dark, featureless arm, the Krell alien reached down and touched the activation sequence.

"_WE ARE THE BORG. PREPARE TO BE ASSIMILATED_."

Soran had heard the familiar blur of thousands of voices, all speaking as one, on several other occasions. His mind whirled with a chaotic blur of terrible memories that further threatened his psyche. "_Daddy, save me!_" a voice from his past cried out in his mind. It was a plea that Tolian Soran would never forget. For one moment longer, he let the Borg continue their hopeless attempts to lock onto or destroy the Preserver electronics vessel. Then the seething hatred that had tortured his soul for over a century seized total command of his conscience.

"Destroy them," he ordered without any further hesitation or regret. "Destroy them utterly."

"_WE ARE THE BORG. RESISTANCE IS…_"

Ishiik abandoned all pretense of weakness and refocused all six of the lasers. He targeted each of them on the exact center of the enemy's hull along the side of the cube facing them. Then he activated the _Thraex_'s nuclear fusion generators, firing a massive, golden colored plasma charge from an emitter cannon affixed to the front of the starship. The pulsating energy bolt was larger than the entire Borg cube itself. It terminated their incoming transmission the instant it blew through the vessel's shields and then penetrated its outer hull. The plasma remained relatively intact as it emerged from the rear of the cube, carrying with it tons of burning, disintegrating metallic superstructure. Bodies, exploding anti-matter, and other smoldering internal debris sprayed outward in all directions from inside the enemy ship. In less than five seconds, the massive explosion faded away, leaving behind a cube-shaped, burning skeletal framework that was now barely capable of holding its shape.

Soran glanced down at the sensor readout in front of Ishiik. "Number of drone life signs… zero," he noted with sincere approval. "The plasma cannon on this ship is a _civilian_ creation… designed to refuel and reignite stars," he noted with approval. "One shot from it totally destroyed a Borg combat cube. Just _imagine_ what our Omega-enhanced Xindi superweapon will do to them!"

"Construction in the Alpha Quadrant is nearing completion," pointed out Ishiik. "If my work crews hold to their planned schedule, the device will be ready by the time we return."

For a moment longer, Tolian Soran simply stood there looking at the _Thraex_'s viewscreen and admiring what they had just done. He took great pleasure in watching the remnants of the Borg vessel spin awkwardly in space. Residual fires that had not yet been extinguished by the vacuum of space continued to smolder ominously, bathing the enemy ship in a fiery blaze even more hellish and frightening than its normal internal green glow. And yet this particular enemy vessel would never hurt anyone again.

"Well if that doesn't capture the attention of my friends from the future," Soran chuckled with amusement, "then we'll have to come up with something even more…"

* * *

Delta Quadrant, February 23, 2154, Aboard the _Thraex

* * *

_

Smiling with anticipation, Dr. Tolian Soran curiously studied the seemingly chaos-driven intricacy that comprised the design of a Borg cube. The crew of the _Thraex_ had located one with ease shortly after arriving in the Delta Quadrant with plans to put the first stage of their plan into operation. Currently the Borg vessel was holding a steady course on a routine patrol pattern. The motive was obvious – a relentless search designed to locate and attack anyone or anything possessing relevant technology. Telemetry covertly downloaded from one of the drones on board had already confirmed what Soran already suspected. Nothing had changed and the Borg were doing what they always did. They were taking what they needed with a complete lack of compassion for those whom they killed or assimilated.

"There are no rules in war," mused the Doctor thoughtfully. "Especially not in _this_ one."

As usual, Ishiik was standing loyally by his side. This time, however, the entire bridge was filled with additional Krell. Their tall, ebony silhouettes moved back and forth as the entire shift complement worked steadily to prepare the vessel for combat. "Our temporal shielding has been adjusted," Ishiik informed Soran. "We can safely weaken our shields by as much as sixty percent. The reduced setting will allow us to defend ourselves against the Borg and still allow the timeline to 'reset us' if there is an incursion. The upper frequency band surrounding the ship will remain at its normal level, protecting our neural activity. If anyone detects our tampering here and comes back in time looking for us, we should be able to remember the original incident even if we physically adjust to the change."

"With the shields partially lowered, will the Borg be able to detect any trace of the Omega molecules powering our engine core?"

"No," replied Ishiik confidently. "Although I thought you planned to use that as bait."

Soran smiled wryly at his colleague. "Not just yet," he stated firmly. "We don't want…"

Alarm klaxons interrupted the Doctor before he could finish, and a look of stunned surprise appeared on his face. Ishiik turned immediately to face the man working behind him. "Hayuk," the Krell asked his second in command intensely. "What is going on?"

Hayuk examined the data carefully, his dark head leaning forward slightly while assessing the situation. "There is another vessel decloaking between us and the Borg cube," he replied after a pause. "It appears to be a 29th century Starfleet Timeship… the ID beacon identifies the new contact as the _Relativity_."

Not so surprisingly, the communications panel lit up as it processed an incoming message from the newly arrived starship. Soran glanced quizzically at Ishiik. "Do you remember destroying the Borg cube?" he asked suspiciously. "Because _I_ certainly do."

The tall, looming figure next to him nodded imperiously. "Yes," he replied. "I do remember. Apparently we were successful in leaving behind a temporal footprint." The big alien chuckled with amusement. "Your friends are extremely efficient… it did not take them long at all to locate us."

"This is all too predictable and more than a little sad actually," sighed the Doctor. On the viewscreen, they could see the Borg futilely attempting to lock a tractor beam onto the Federation starship. From his perspective, it seemed as though only seconds ago that very same attack had been directed his way. "I wonder if we have been through this causal loop more than twice."

"There is no way to tell," pointed out Ishiik. "Not without temporal monitoring equipment." He pointed toward the sleek, streamlined form of the _U.S.S. Relativity_ floating in front of them on the forward viewscreen. "_They_ could probably answer your question."

"Accept their hail," suggested Soran. "Let's hear what they have to say."

Ishiik nodded and touched the Comm-panel controls. The viewscreen image shifted instantly to a view of the _Relativity_'s bridge. "_Doctor Soran_," stated a tall, slim man wearing a black and blue Starfleet uniform. "_My name is Captain Thomas Ducane. I'm sure you realize that we cannot allow you to alter history… I have brought your friends with you so that we can resolve this manner peacefully_." Behind the youthful looking, dark-haired Ducane, the Doctor also recognized the familiar faces of Jean-Luc Picard and James Kirk. There was also another humanoid male standing with them.

"Commander Frank Roberts," nodded Soran respectfully. "I see that you too, android, have chosen to make the journey back through five million years of history solely to see me again. I am _honored_ to draw so much attention and truly wish I could accommodate your wishes, but I'm afraid that my mind is made up on this matter. The Borg are going to die… _all_ of them."

Hayuk sent a telepathic alert to Ishiik and Soran, drawing their attention temporarily away from the viewscreen. "The _Relativity_ has returned fire and disabled the primary Borg weapons systems." He studied the incoming telemetry for another moment, verifying the new data, before continuing. "The drones on board the cube are working steadily to regenerate their weapons systems. However, those efforts are limited because Captain Ducane's starship has implemented some sort of subspace jamming network. The Borg vinculum communications system is cut-off from the rest of the Collective, shrinking their hive mind to the resident population aboard the cube." Intrigued, he continued watching the enemy vessel lurking ominously behind the _Relativity_.

"_You had a new life with the Preservers_," stated Jean-Luc Picard evenly, drawing the Doctor's attention back to the screen. "_Give it up Soran. James Kirk and I are also victims of time… created from a probe's database at the whim of the Sentinel. We have a home in the distant future – if you come back with us_ now_, before any history is permanently altered, all charges will be dropped. You can resume your treatment _and_ your promising new career_."

"History has _already_ been altered, simply by our confrontation with this cube!" The Doctor's ire rose instantly and his face reddened with fury. "My _home_… my _family_ are _here_ in the past!" he countered heatedly. "They were taken away from me by the very same loathsome creatures that you are now protecting. Get out of my way, and allow me and my crew the opportunity we need to make the galaxy a _much_ better place."

"_I can't do that Doctor_," snapped Ducane in reply. "_My orders are clear on this matter. We have a Temporal Prime Directive that specifically states…_"

"Your _Temporal _Prime Directive states that my family – that my entire civilization – has to _die!_" shouted Soran fiercely. "Therefore, my crew and I have already decided that your rules do not apply to us. _If_ you stay out of our way, we won't consider you a threat and attack you. All we're planning to do is _save_ a majority of the worlds that the Borg would otherwise destroy over the next few centuries before Captain Janeway finally defeats them. _You_ should be helping us, not preaching about morality and the rule of law while _trillions_ die or lose their free will."

Ducane took a confident step forward, intently gazing into the viewscreen on his end. "_Doctor, the unintended consequences of what you are trying to do are potentially disastrous on a _massive_ scale_," the _Relativity_ Captain pointed out. "_I strongly urge you to stand down. There is no need to tamper with history… I personally have spent my entire career as a student of it. So trust me, even the smallest change can unintentionally destroy the future of just as many people _if_ it affects a crux event. Some of those worlds you save may have intentions even more hostile than the Borg_."

"_Get out of my way!_" shouted Soran, so loudly and unexpectedly that the dark silhouette of Hayuk visibly flinched. "Get out of my way or we'll turn our plasma cannon on _you!_ I've lived, read and breathed history, so I already _know_ what the 'unintended consequences' will be if I _don't_ act."

Flanked by Frank Roberts, Jean-Luc Picard and James Kirk, Captain Thomas Joseph Ducane relentlessly folded his arms in defiance. "_No_."

"Then perhaps a small incentive will _convince_ you to leave," Soran decided. He raised his left hand and motioned toward Ishiik. "Transmit message packet Soran149 to the Borg."

"Yes Doctor," acknowledged Ishiik. He worked for a moment at the Comm-panel. Then both he and Tolian Soran watched as the Borg cube suddenly leaped back into warp and fled the scene.

"That cube is on a direct course for _Earth_," the Doctor informed his former colleagues. "I strongly suggest you stop them before they get there. Otherwise it will be _your_ people who lose their families this time." Anxiety clouded his expression with doubt and persistent anger. "That ship now possesses a secret that I transmitted to them. You have no choice in the matter… if they reach Earth before you do then they will assimilate it. If you use your superior technology to drive them away, eventually they will escape from your jamming network and pass their newfound knowledge on to the rest of the Collective. Then you will have to war with _all_ of them at once."

"Why _Soran?_" Picard was visibly outraged. "_Are you so selfish that…_"

"How _dare_ you call me selfish Picard!" The Doctor glared heatedly at the viewscreen, visibly fuming. "_All_ of you have chosen to stand in judgment of me while your _own_ families live safely behind your well protected borders." He pointed an accusatory, stabbing finger in the direction of Picard's image. "Now the situation is even, and it is the future of _your_ families that are at risk. _If_ you choose to save them, then your actions will be no different than my own. So I suggest that you hurry gentleman, while you still have an Earth to return to."

Ducane swore softly and promptly began issuing orders. Seconds later the image from the _Relativity_'s bridge vanished and they watched the vessel turn sharply away from them. Once it completed its 180 degree rotation, the Timeship rocketed swiftly to warp speed on a pursuit course toward the Borg.

His brief victory was not enough for Soran. The Doctor strode calmly over toward the still active Comm-panel and touched the transmit function. "You were fortunate on this occasion _Captain_ Ducane, fortunate to have used that jamming network. If I see you again, I'm going to resend my message… this time to the _entire_ Collective," he cautioned them. "I think that's a fair enough bargain. _Leave_ me alone to save my world and my family, and I'll allow you to keep yours."

"An interesting puzzle you've tossed to them," commented Ishiik idly. "They too have traveled through time, and now they too must destroy Borg in order to save their planet's future."

Smiling in triumph, Soran shifted his eyes toward Ishiik. "Exactly. Perhaps they will judge me less harshly, although my instincts tell me that they'll stick to their same, tired old formula." His eyes lit up brightly. "Now then, let's proceed with stage two."

* * *

_Enterprise_ NCC-1701, Near Tholian Space, Alpha Quadrant

* * *

_Captain's Log, Stardate 5778.4. It has been nearly three months since our last encounter with the Tholians. Regrettably, they have chosen to maintain their hostile stance towards the Federation and its member worlds. In fact, they have continued to escalate tensions throughout the sector. At least eight civilian vessels have gone missing near our common border with their Assembly in the past three weeks, leaving the Admiralty at Starfleet Command with no choice but to begin assigning armed starships to patrol the area. Use of the_ Enterprise _to assist with protecting merchant traffic has been authorized via newly received orders. Therefore, the crew and I find ourselves faced with one of our most difficult missions. Due to the extreme risk involved, officers and personnel with the least tenure have been temporarily reassigned to Starbase 19, scaling back our normal crew complement of 430 to 220_.

_The other two starships in our task force have been assigned to protect civilian convoys moving through the area. My own personal orders, however, specifically dictate that I can choose to violate Tholian territory and retrieve all captured Federation citizens if we find evidence that they are still alive_. _Mr. Spock has been working steadily with the rest of our bridge crew, and is also coordinating his efforts with the Science Officers aboard the_ Hood _and the_ Potemkin. _Together we have located some residual debris, but not enough to account for any of the missing vessels. It is very likely that ships, crew and cargo have all been confiscated… a development that will leave me with no choice but to order the _Enterprise_ inside hostile space. According to our charter, citizens from all member worlds in the Federation fall under the protection of Starfleet, and that is a responsibility I take very seriously.

* * *

_

James T. Kirk studied the expressions on the faces of the other senior officers seated around him carefully while lightly pounding his fist on the log computer's off switch. "Did I leave anything out?" he asked curiously, shifting his gaze from face to face.

"I do not believe so Captain," replied Spock almost immediately. "As usual, your assessment of the situation acknowledges the reality of the dangers we almost certainly will face." The Vulcan was seated across from him at the lengthy conference around which they had all assembled. He had steepled the fingers of both hands together in front of him, lastly touching his thumbs together. It was a simple technique commonly used by many trained in the art of strict mental discipline. Spock generally used the posture during meetings where unanswered questions were raised, since it allowed him to better focus his attention and maintain an alert state of mind.

"Why would the Tholians take prisoners?" asked Uhura curiously, frowning with obvious concern. "It's not like they can just shove our people in some unused cargo hold… the normal environment in which they live is completely toxic to us."

"That is a great question, Lieutenant," decided Dr. Leonard McCoy.

"Their normal room temperature is 450 degrees Kelvin," Spock pointed out.

"That converts to 350 degrees Fahrenheit," Chekov added. "177 degrees Celsius. And this is just _temperature_. It doesn't take into account the dozens of noxious gases that the Tholians apparently live in and perhaps breathe as normally as we would…"

"Chekov." Kirk held up a hand, smiling at the dark-haired Russian. Since they had neared the Tholian border, the enthusiastic young Ensign had been busy backing up Spock as Science Officer during the scant few hours a day when the Vulcan was not on the bridge. The Captain inhaled deeply and held in the breath for a few seconds. Then he exhaled slowly, using the brief pause to fully think the matter over. "_If_ our people are alive…" He glanced expectantly toward Spock, pausing in mid-sentence with a raised index finger. "_If_ they have not been executed…"

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow – the only hint of an emotional reaction he would visibly display. "Evidence to date indicates that all missing civilian vessels were attacked, disabled, and towed away," he stated factually. "Much of the debris that we beamed on board was exposed to directed energy discharges consistent with low level Tholian plasma charges, and sensors have also detected residual energy patterns near all of the attack sites consistent with a tractor beam." He returned the Captain's gaze with an imposing stare of his own. "The lack of bodies and any significant sized debris field would seem to indicate that the Tholians went out of their way to deliberately keep the crew of each missing vessel alive."

"Agreed," said Kirk, smiling at Yeoman Janice Rand gratefully as she refilled his coffee. "Therefore, our first order of business will be to determine specifically _where_ our people have been taken to."

"Who knows what is inside that Empire of theirs," growled Chekov moodily. "They could have prison planets, slave colonies, almost anything we can imagine." He waved his hands in disgust. "Whatever they want with our people, I predict that it won't go well for them."

Hikaru Sulu suddenly spoke up, after choosing to remain quiet throughout most of the earlier conversation. "Long range sensors won't penetrate far enough inside their border to tell us anything useful," he predicted. "If we want to learn anything, we're going to have to go in there."

"That's why this ship is running with a skeleton crew," agreed Kirk. "After reviewing the telemetry provided by Mr. Spock, I've already made the decision to take us in." He smiled confidently. "However, it would help matters considerably if we knew where to start looking."

Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott harrumphed in response. "Follow them," he suggested. "Let's find a Tholian cruiser and tail them back to their home base."

"The size of the Tholian Empire is considerable," countered Spock. "Additionally, there sensors are as sophisticated as ours. It would be difficult to conceal the presence of a ship as large as the _Enterprise_."

"The Tholians are also extremely hostile," McCoy reminded them. "Rather than negotiate, they prefer direct confrontations and prefer to drive invaders away from their territory. We've seen it before…"

"The Doctor is correct," agreed Spock. Several heads swiveled instantly in his direction upon hearing him agree with McCoy. In response, the Vulcan's eyebrow soared again. Then he resumed the conversation with his usual, unflappable manner. "Deception would be a better approach. We should find a way of baiting the Tholians into leading us where we want to go."

"_Or_ we could give them another prize for their collection," Kirk mused thoughtfully, his hazel eyes flashing with inspiration. "If they captured the _Enterprise_, it is entirely probable that they would tow us to the same location as those other ships."

"They will _never_ capture the _Enterprise_," predicted Chekov grimly. "Their conventional plasma charges are ineffective against our shields, and their web-spinning weapon takes much too long for them to deploy." The Ensign's expression was deadly serious, causing Kirk to chuckle with amusement as memories of his own early service years in Starfleet began to surface in the back of his mind.

"The more ships they have, the faster they can deploy that web shield," Scotty pointed out. "Don't underestimate them Mr. Chekov… if they send enough vessels our way, we'll have one devil of a fight on our hands."

"Even if they send their entire fleet after us, I can use photon torpedoes to disable their vessels as fast as they appear." Chekov's resolve remained hardened and his determination unwavering.

Surprisingly, it was Spock who broke the tension. He glanced impassively toward his protégé, unperturbed as usual. "Perhaps the Tholians would have an opportunity to surround us if you were to suddenly begin missing your targets Ensign," he decided coolly.

The Captain nodded in approval at his First Officer's suggestion. "That's a great idea Spock," he stated with renewed interest, grinning at the puzzled face of his best navigator. "I think that your normally reliable targeting skills are about to suffer a minor setback, Mr. Chekov. In fact, you're about to become a really _bad_ shot. Not a _terrible_ shot, mind you… that might give away our strategy. However, at least for awhile it would really help matters if you missed at least some of your targets."

Pavel Chekov's expression indicated that he was not at all pleased with the concept.

"Even if we locate everyone we're searching for, there's still the problem of how to get the civilians out safely," observed Uhura. "You can't tell me one starship will be able to move deep into Tholian space and provide cover long enough for unarmed merchant vessels to escape."

"Our rescue plan will have to be created as we go," Kirk decided. "And the dangerous nature of this mission is just one of the reasons we've taken the time to re-assign almost half the crew… we may need the extra room to bring hostages aboard."

"Tactically, that strategy would be the most logical," commented Spock. "One starship defending itself long enough to warp back into Federation territory would be an ideal scenario."

"Do we have enough vacated quarters?" McCoy asked curiously. "Do we even know how _many_ people we're talking about?"

Surprisingly, Spock actually appeared slightly irritated at McCoy's second question. "Doctor," he stated bluntly, "Mr. Chekov and I have been researching this matter for several days now. The crew and passenger manifests of the eight missing vessels indicate that one hundred nineteen people are unaccounted for. Assuming that some were casualties during the fighting that led to their captivity, we're looking at a rescue mission to retrieve at least a hundred potential hostages."

"Then we have more than enough room," Kirk nodded firmly.

"We could always use the shuttle bay," noted Scotty. "_If_ we do locate more prisoners than expected."

"I would prefer that be our last option," the Captain replied. "We may need the shuttle craft."

McCoy shook his head with dismay. "So what you're all saying here is that we're planning to get the _Enterprise_ caught, pray that the Tholians tow us to where the other ships are, and _hope_ we can somehow repair any major damage to the ship while rescuing everybody once we're there?"

"You're in Starfleet Doctor," Kirk chuckled lightly. "We can try negotiating first, but I don't expect the Tholians will want to talk after committing piracy and all but declaring war on the Federation. Besides, you should be used to dangerous missions and the need for us to make things up on the fly." He leaned forward, his mood turning instantly serious. "Adapting as we go _will_ be our plan. I'm putting you and Sulu in charge of making sure we're ready to accommodate hostages if we find them. Insure that empty quarters are prepared and coordinate a transport schedule with Mr. Scott."

"I'll get my staff right on that as soon as we're done here," nodded McCoy, his mood softening noticeably at the prospect of saving lives. "We'll be ready."

Turning in his seat to face Spock, the Captain's eyes blazed. "Mr. Scott, you and Spock will have to find a way of keeping the _Enterprise_ operable even if we take a heavy pounding. And – assuming that we end up where we want to be inside Tholian space – we're also going to need a way to neutralize that web-based shield of theirs so that we can fight our way free again."

"Aye, it will be risky." Scott nodded in full agreement. "The _Enterprise_ will hold together."

"Risk is our business," Kirk reminded them before turning to Uhura.. "Lieutenant, have you figured out how Tholian inter-ship communications frequencies work yet?"

"Not the military ones," the dark-haired Lieutenant informed him. "During our last encounter, the Tholians interacted with us on an open channel. While trying to generate the web shield, however, their electronic communications traffic was almost non-existent. Their language was easy enough for the main computer's translator to decipher, but I'm going to need some actual samples of their military frequencies in order to learn how to properly decrypt them."

"Then let's get you something to work with," stated Kirk resolutely, rising from his chair. "Mr. Chekov, Mr. Sulu, set a course directly toward Tholian space and move the _Enterprise_ inside enemy territory."

"Aye sir."

With the official word given, everyone rose swiftly to their feet and moved to attend to their various duties.


	7. The Changing Face Of Evil

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**The Changing Face Of Evil

* * *

**

Delta Quadrant, February 23, 2154, Aboard the _U.S.S. Relativity

* * *

_

Streaking through space like an artfully contoured, streamlined spearhead, the _Relativity_ rocketed methodically closer to the fleeing enemy cube. Emerald hued directed energy discharges flashed outward from the starship's wing-tip disruptor cannons, slamming heavily into the Borg ship's shielding. As usual, the drones inside worked steadily to adjust their deflector systems to compensate for the unexpected strength of their newly discovered adversary's weaponry. On this particular occasion however, their normal speed and ability to adapt was surprisingly limited. In what was undoubtedly a mystery for them, their pursuer on this occasion possessed the greater power and technology.

The Borg were not used to being outmatched in any sort of serious combat, and – since the ship's hive mind continued to be mysteriously isolated from the rest of their Collective – many of the drones on board were subconsciously attempting to panic. Those emotions were automatically detected, identified and repressed by the sophisticated software at the heart of the ship's communications vinculum, but the repeated emotional reactions of so many frightened minds did not occur without consequence. The lack of focus on normal duties had placed the Borg unexpectedly, shockingly on the defensive.

_They weren't simply attempting to get to Earth any longer. They were running away in fear._

Captain Ducane hadn't moved since the chase began. He was standing firmly behind the helm and navigation stations on the lower, port side of the bridge. The enigmatic shape of the enemy vessel was captured in grand detail at the center of the large, main viewscreen as starshine flew steadily past it on all sides. Lieutenant-Commander and acting First Officer Jessica Ingram sat confidently at the helm, maintaining the Timeship's relentless pursuit of Starfleet's most dangerous foe. "Target is maintaining a steady warp 9.9996 Captain," she told him, her blonde ponytail flipping to the left as she turned her head to make the necessary adjustments to their own ship's mighty engines. "I'm increasing our own velocity to 9.99961. We'll see how fast they can go before their engines begin to overheat."

"Simply overtaking them isn't going to be good enough," growled Ducane irritably. His previously unwavering focus on the viewscreen finally shifted toward Ingram. "Lieutenant, fire another volley from the disruptors. Force that ship out of warp."

Jessica nodded with grim determination. "I'll try sir." She touched the weapons console and additional blazing bursts of green disruptor fire blurred the image in the lower corners of the viewscreen before striking and rocking the Borg ship. Large, flaming chunks of cleanly sliced superstructure fell away from the edges of the vessel before disappearing instantly as they dropped out of the enemy vessel's warp bubble and fell back to sub-light velocity. "It's no use," Ingram informed Ducane with a disappointed shake of her head. "Unless we damage them much more severely, the redundant power systems aboard that cube will continue to compensate for the areas we damage." She shook her head with obvious respect. "That's why they don't care about aesthetics… the survival of ship and drones is first priority."

Sitting next to Ingram was the trim, dark-haired Ensign Deb Murry. "With respect, I think we should destroy them while we have an opportunity to do so, sir. We have a precedent on this occasion. The cube has already been defeated in Soran's alternate timeline."

"Their replication systems are capable of regenerating that vessel almost as fast as we damage it," Ingram added in full agreement. "We _have_ to destroy them while there is still time. If those drones manage to escape from our jamming network, they will reestablish subspace contact with the rest of their Collective. Since we have no idea what Soran transmitted to them, I strongly suggest we prevent that from happening."

"They won't escape from our jamming network," Ducane snapped firmly. "Commander Roberts and I linked the _Relativity_'s main computer into Data's subspace network. The jamming field is coming from subspace, so we can target them wherever they go even if they move beyond maximum sensor range."

"Nevertheless, what they were supposed to be doing in this timeline has already drastically changed."

"I _don't_ want to kill all of those drones," the Captain declared. "We know there are still _people_ underneath all those implants, and we've left enough of a temporal footprint here as things stand."

Ingram sighed heavily. "With respect sir, we're _already_ killing drones!" she told the Captain a bit heatedly, automatically detecting her increased anxiety and reducing her tone of voice according to training. "Our most recent attack took out more than two _hundred_ of them." She glanced back at him almost pleadingly. "The Cube-Class vessel has redundant power systems _and_ anti-matter powered replicators," she reminded him. "As long as there are enough drones functional, the Borg can fully regenerate virtually anything. Aside from a very few scarce, isolated resources that cannot be replicated, they're virtually indestructible."

"I _want_ another option!" demanded Ducane, refusing at least for the moment to give in.

Behind him, Frank Roberts continued to stand idle alongside Jean-Luc Picard and James Kirk. The three of them had been watching the chase take place in complete silence. Picard's emotions were understandably mixed – his own history with the Borg had become Starfleet legend. "This is a new Captain," he stated softly, taking a step forward. "Perhaps we should…" The light touch of a hand on his shoulder stopped him, causing him to pause.

"You won't make him a better Captain by helping," whispered James Kirk. "My former First Officer and I used to teach at the Academy. Sooner or later, Jean-Luc, they have to learn firsthand when and when not to use deadly force."

Roberts nodded with approval at Kirk's assessment. "And then, since you are emotional creatures, you have to learn how to live with the consequences of those decisions you make."

Standing by helplessly while additional disruptor fire from his starship ripped into the Borg cube, Thomas Ducane struggled to maintain control over his temper. Additional pieces of flaming superstructure fell away from the cube… in fact, the enemy ship was beginning to look more like the leftover core of a huge, mechanized apple. The sensor console next to Ingram's hand began to beep for attention and she studied the new data carefully.

"Captain," she said, swiveling slightly in her seat to look directly at him. "Our analysis of Soran's destruction of this cube in the alternate timeline is complete. The loss of this particular Borg vessel will cause a statistically insignificant change in history… the alteration is 1.277 times ten to the negative 443rd, final temporal incursion factor. In the grand scheme of things, sir, that amounts to as close to _nothing_ as we're going to get."

Ducane considered the new information provided by his acting First Officer carefully. "Can we utilize the _Relativity_'s communications array to isolate those drones from the cube's vinculum? Can we break apart their smaller Collective and confuse the drones?"

Ingram shook her head negatively without the slightest bit of hesitation. "Each Borg drone is programmed to self-destruct unless we deactivate that function first. I would need at least an hour to add the necessary computer instructions into our hailing signal. In the meantime they're rerouting all of their major command functions to areas of their ship farthest away from us. If they open a trans-warp conduit, even still-functional debris from that ship striking Earth could prove disastrous. Those drones can survive in the vacuum of space, and if even one of them gets loose on Earth…"

Sighing heavily and retaining obvious reservations, Ducane finally relented. "Target them with our primary disruptor and prepare to fire," he decided conclusively. "Ensign Murry, arm a full spread of inter-phasic torpedoes. Stand by to fire as soon as our disruptor breaks their shields."

"Believe it or not, the Borg vessel is now at warp 9.99965, Captain. I'm closing in to optimal firing range." Ingram's fingers danced across the consoles in front of her and the _Relativity_'s deck shifted just slightly under their feet as the inertial dampeners lagged slightly behind the sudden velocity increase. Normally the transition was completely unnoticeable, but not at a high speed change so near to warp ten.

Captain Thomas Joseph Ducane took a last look at the fragmenting enemy ship, his heart still burning with the emotion from an inescapable decision that he hated to make. "Fire the primary disruptor."

At his command, the central cannon housed in the _Relativity_'s nose discharged, releasing three short bursts of powerful green energy in swift succession. The first two energy bolts completely pierced the remaining Borg shields, temporarily collapsing them. The third disruptor shot tore deeply into the center of the enemy vessel and completely annihilated the cube's primary shield generator. Shattered and damaged almost beyond recognition, the smoldering, burning remains of the alien starship dropped instantly out of warp.

Seconds later, Commander Ingram followed suit – decelerating the _Relativity_ to sublight velocity and pausing at half impulse. She swung them around, turning the Timeship sharply toward the enemy. The viewscreen's image promptly refocused on the cube's remains, which continued burning internally with a hellish red and orange fury in addition to the normal eerie green glow emitted by redundant power systems that somehow, impossibly still remained functional.

"_Now_ Ensign, fire our torpedoes too," ordered Ducane sternly.

Half a dozen white-hot projectiles flashed onto the viewscreen, each of them trailed by a dark blue energy tendril. Together they slammed into physical debris from the cube, causing the warhead inside each of them to detonate. The remaining structure of the Borg vessel exploded in a dazzling display of fireworks – disintegrating at the quantum level and leaving behind billions of tiny azure energy fragments that swiftly faded away against the dark, star-studded background of open space. Together those standing on the bridge of the _Relativity_ watched quietly as the enemy starship died.

Although the main body of the cube itself had been completely obliterated, there was still the matter of the sizeable trail of debris left behind from the _Relativity_'s earlier disruptor attacks. Acessing the starship's phaser banks, Jessica Ingram activated a wider field setting and proceeded to methodically vaporize everything still floating in the immediate vicinity.

"We're going to have to go back for everything else that fell out of warp along the way," she cautioned. "Otherwise additional Borg or scavenger races will discover the debris fields and try to locate dead drones or salvageable databases. It would be best if people living in this timeframe didn't have access to a sensor analysis of our shields and weaponry."

"Agreed," Ducane stated tersely. "Please complete that mission and take charge of the bridge. Once you've finished backtracking and destroy the remainder of the wreckage, I want you to begin developing a quick method of separating Borg drones from the hive mind without triggering their self-destruct software. Next time we're going to have a second option available to us."

"Aye sir." Ingram turned her head just far enough to study his reaction. "Do you really think we're going to need to intervene that _much_ in the affairs of this time period?"

The Captain shrugged. "At this point, with Soran involved I think it would be best if we prepared ourselves for anything," he replied somewhat curtly. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my quarters." Turning sharply on his heel, he walked silently past Frank Roberts, Jean-Luc Picard, and James Kirk. They watched him disappear inside the turbolift at the rear of the Timeship's compact bridge.

Watching him go, Commander Roberts turned to the two men beside him. "Should not one of us go talk to him?" he asked with the unrestrained curiosity of a Data-Class android. "It is apparent that Captain Ducane deeply regrets having to order the destruction of so many life forms, even if they are still technically an enemy of the Federation during this time period."

"I'm not going to go talk to him," decided Kirk almost instantly. "I've stepped on the toes of new Captains before, even during times when I've deliberately tried to avoid doing so. It's very easy for veterans like me to crush someone's confidence before it has a chance to strengthen."

Picard hesitated for a moment, considering Roberts' question carefully. "I don't have anything to say to him at this point either," he declared finally. "Captain Ducane has made correct decisions throughout this crisis, in my opinion. I also would have destroyed the Borg vessel."

"I really think someone should check in on him," persisted Roberts firmly, doing his best to assess the two strong personalities of the men standing next to him while prompting them with questions. "Perhaps he just needs someone to listen to what he has to say."

Nodding in agreement, Jean-Luc waved a hand toward the turbolift. "Be my guest Commander," he suggested with a small smile. "You know this time period best… I can think of no one better qualified."

Thinking about Picard's response for a nano-second, Roberts concluded that the Captain was correct. "If anyone needs me, I will be visiting with the Captain." He too vanished inside the turbolift.

Commander Ingram continued to watch the consoles in front of her carefully, but she glanced back at the two former starship Captains. "What is so different about being in command?" she asked with obvious interest. "Ensign Murry and I fired the weapons, so we are just as culpable – if not more so – for destroying lives. Given the circumstances, I agree that the Captain had no other alternative. In this timeframe, our primary objective must be to minimize Soran's incursions _and_ protect Earth. The Captain simply had no other alternative."

"_That's_ what bothers him," pointed out James Kirk. "There wasn't a viable alternative. For someone in command of this kind of firepower, that often makes things all the more frustrating."

Picard moved closer to Ingram and glanced at the helm console, subtly attempting to change the subject before other crewmembers began to analyze things too deeply. "I'm impressed by your starship, Commander. During the chase, you mentioned that we were traveling at warp 9.99965. That's faster than anything I've ever seen… extremely close to the warp ten threshold in fact. Just _how_ fast can this ship go? Does the _Relativity_ have the ability break the theoretical curve of diminishing returns?"

"Affirmative," replied Ingram with a smile. "The threshold you're referring to is no longer theoretical in my time. It is a measured science that is controlled and manipulated very carefully at the heart of our temporal core. It is the process we use to allow our ship's engines to open a temporal rift, which we can then utilize to move through both time and space. We can travel anywhere in the galaxy within a matter of seconds, and as long as our shields remain functional we can do so without suffering from any of the genetic side effects first experienced in your century."

"How far…? Could you move beyond the galactic rim?"

Ingram chuckled with amusement. "Why would you want to go out there? There's virtually nothing to see, unless of course we could generate enough power to move all the way to another galaxy. I don't think anyone – even in our time – has even considered trying to do that yet." She took a deep breath, intrigued by the possibilities. "I suppose if we used a series of shorter jumps, we could eventually reach another galaxy within a reasonable timeframe." She waved her hands indifferently. "But who knows what we would find there?"

"Unexplored territory," said Kirk. "Strange new worlds… new life forms and civilizations."

Shaking her head, Ingram returned her attention to the consoles in front of her. "So far, just maintaining order in _this_ galaxy has proved challenging enough!" she decided resolutely. "I've only been in Starfleet for ten years, and I've seen puh-lenty of strange new worlds!"

* * *

Erika Hernandez studied the trim, efficient layout of the _Relativity_'s primary engineering deck with growing intrigue. Just like the advanced, state-of-the-art bridge that she had toured earlier, this part of the ship was equally sophisticated. Currently the dark-haired, former starship commander was leaning against a safety railing, glancing down toward the heart of the Timeship's infamous temporal core. Already she had learned that a standard matter/anti-matter reactor was housed there, along with a newer, sophisticated engine that utilized an energy source known as 'Omega' to generate an artificial, quantum singularity. The stable chain of Omega molecules generated virtually unlimited power – the starship's mighty disruptors were limited only by the maximum capacity of their emitters.

Upon first arriving, Hernandez and her team had been fully briefed on the starship's design and capabilities. What continued to astonish her – not so surprisingly – were the number of similarities to older, traditional starships. Over the passage of centuries, the evolution of Starfleet technology had obviously progressed at a rapid pace. Other than that, much of the _Relativity_'s layout still resembled her own _Columbia_. Nevertheless, Erika was extremely fascinated by the advances in electronics. She had come down to Engineering on her own time to conduct a more 'up close and personal' study. Since her crew now planned to live permanently in the distant future with the Preservers, they had received clearance to learn 'everything'.

Hernandez and a dozen hand-picked, experienced members of her former NX-02 crew had accompanied Frank Roberts, Jean-Luc Picard, and James Kirk back through time. For Erika and her associates, their part of this new assignment was proving to be fairly simple. Each of them was being carefully trained to supplement the Timeship's regular engineering crew, allowing members of the normal duty roster to work a normal three-shift rotation even during times of crisis. Already the _Relativity_ had been forced to confront the Borg – arguably the most dangerous enemy ever encountered by Starfleet. Thus the word had already been given… under no circumstances would 29th century technology be allowed to fall into the clutches of so relentless and deadly an enemy.

_The catastrophe that followed would be apocalyptic._

Glancing up from the depths of the reactor core, her gaze fell on the handsome, chestnut-haired Chief Engineer. His name was Lt. Commander Adam Nelson, and his youthful appearance could at first be somewhat deceptive. Nelson was an expert trained in the science of temporal mechanics, someone well suited for a long term assignment aboard a Timeship. And although he looked at first glance to be a raw cadet, the enthusiastic officer in actuality had already served in Starfleet for nearly twenty years.

"I'm impressed," admitted Erika, running the tips of her fingers along the spotless railing. "There are so many similarities to my own vessel, except that almost everything here is completely automated. Even the waste neutralization and disposal process…"

Nelson nodded in agreement. "By the 24th century, mechanization as you knew it had passed into history, replaced almost completely by sophisticated electronics regulated by a highly complex, centralized computer. However, even though the 'blue collar' atmosphere that our first starship crews thrived in no longer exists, the people of your era continue to be an inspiration for us. Our work ethic in Starfleet hasn't changed over the years, only our advances in technology. What happened with starship design is strikingly similar to the computer revolution in the latter half of the 20th century, or perhaps the rapid rate at which analog processing transitioned to digital in the 21st." Erika was gradually discovering Adam Nelson to be a very witty conversationalist, one completely willing to answer all of her questions.

"So I gather that we were able to explore farther and farther outward," she guessed. "We obviously learned a lot from many of the other space faring races, and added their ideas to our own."

"Exactly." Nelson and an assistant were studying a rapidly scrolling list of statistical data on one of the large, viewscreen-like engineering monitors. He turned to face her and smiled with enthusiasm. "You worked with Andrew Strong. Some of his earliest work with the first warp five engines is still on record as required reading at the Academy. He and Charles Tucker were the catalyst that made that engine work. They are still heroes, just like Jonathan Archer and A.G. Robinson are remembered for their grit and determination to break new barriers."

Memories, most of them so very recent, began to surface in Erika's mind. "It's funny that you should mention them. For awhile I had both Strong and Tucker on my engineering team," she replied fondly. "Unfortunately, Trip's heart was with the NX-01 and it didn't take him long to realize that. After he left to return to _Enterprise_, Andrew Strong worked very hard over the next few months to convince me that he was the best choice to replace Tucker as Chief Engineer."

Nelson's wide, genuine smile was extremely reassuring to her. "Starfleet has always had a brain trust of top-notch, skilled engineers," he continued. "Historically, whenever we have encountered someone doing things we can't do, everyone has always come together to try and find a way to duplicate that technology. More often than not we end up building our own version of those very same things better." He chuckled with amusement. "Your ships didn't have tractor beams, or deflector field generators…"

"The Omega power source at the heart of your engine is the most impressive thing I've seen so far," commented Hernandez. "Granted I'm a sophomore in the history of Starfleet, but I think anyone would be astonished to see firsthand the unbelievable raw power that your team can harness and safely control on so massive a scale."

Touching the display screen in front of him, Lt. Commander Nelson terminated the standard statistics display they had been studying and called up an engineering screen that displayed current statistical data from the Timeship's temporal core. "Most of the time we are observers of history," he informed her. "Combat – especially in the past – is something we try to avoid at all costs. The Omega molecules at the heart of this engine are safely contained as long as the high-powered force shields surrounding them remain functional. They supply enough power for our warp drive and project deflector screens that are nearly invulnerable. But if even _one_ of those complex molecules down there should destabilize…"

"They would destroy subspace in the area where they detonate, rendering warp drive nearly impossible."

"Exactly." Nelson's smile faded. "Part of our mission down here in Engineering will be a defensive one. Starfleet crews have to be willing to sacrifice themselves to protect others. That is also one of our ideals that has not changed with the passing of centuries." He glanced at the steady readings on the engineering statistical screen intensely, watching the engine's 'vitals' fluctuate rhythmically in response to the thrumming of the monstrous engine situated two decks below them. "The Borg are experts at identifying and adapting to any and all weaknesses in battle. If Doctor Soran continues to force us to confront them and the Borg find a way to penetrate our defenses, my job – and yours – will be to neutralize our Omega molecules… _all_ of them. We cannot let them fall into the hands of the Borg – certainly not at this point in history. We have enough boronite on board to safely complete the job in a matter of minutes."

Her expression paled. "In that event, what would happen to the _Relativity_?"

Nelson shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "We won't be completely helpless," he pointed out. "Our backup matter/anti-matter core is proven technology and still very reliable. Our ability to move across vast distances and time travel might be lost, but we have more than a dozen shuttles on board and can still communicate with our sister ships in the future. Additional Timeships are standing by to return here in case we need their assistance." A confident smile returned to his face. "If the worst comes to pass, rest assured we will get home."

Nodding, Erika's eyes sparkled in challenge. "It would be best if we defeat Soran _first_."

The engineer suddenly turned and walked over to one of the smaller display screens. "Come take a look at this," he suggested, beckoning with a casual wave of one hand. Accessing sensor records, he displayed a still image of the ship that Soran had used earlier to confront them. The strange, alien space vessel's overall shape was a long, thin cylinder. At one end was a round knob-like attachment, while the other tip boasted a much larger protrusion with squared corners that appeared to be engines. "What kind of ship is that?" he asked. "I have never seen a starship with a power curve higher than ours."

"It's a Preserver vessel of some kind," answered Hernandez. "I'm told that its primary specialty is the manufacturing of sophisticated electronic devices, but it also possesses nuclear-fusion plants capable of generating plasma bolts powerful enough to reignite dying stars."

"The hull is so smooth," commented Nelson. "Folks down here are already calling it 'the towel rod'."

"Really," chuckled Hernandez. "I spent some time undergoing orientation in the Preserver education programs while in the future before accepting this assignment, but my crew and I only touched the tip of the iceberg as far as their technology goes. Even so, I can tell you that your 'towel rod' is one of the most powerful vessels in this timeframe right now… if not _the_ most powerful."

"Is that why Soran brought it? To kill Borg?"

The former NX-02 Captain mulled the matter over quietly for a moment. "I don't know exactly _what_ he's up to," she declared honestly. "But I do know that ship has a stabilized chain of Omega molecules in its engine core just like this one does. If his plan was to destroy Borg on a massive scale, then Soran could certainly have chosen from literally hundreds of other vessels far more powerful. There _must_ be a part of his plan that we don't know about yet, and _that_ is cause for concern." She leaned closer to the display, reading the statistics listed next to the vessel's image. "Do you have anything more on file? Let's see what else your sensors detected during their close up scan of Soran's ship."

* * *

Captain Thomas Ducane entered the relative comfort of his private quarters and sat down on the edge of his bed, resting his face in his hands for a moment. Since taking over command of the _Relativity_ after Data's unexpected departure into subspace, he had handled matters quite well… especially mentally. Although still very young, Ducane was of strong mind and body and not easily rattled. But then, he had never before given a direct order that had taken lives. _They're just drones_, some had argued during his Academy days while he and his classmates studied the Borg throughout Starfleet history. _Once assimilated for any significant length of time, there's very little left of a humanoid individual_.

The Captain remembered those days at the Acadmey very well, and how he had asked the doubters to explain Seven of Nine. Kathryn Janeway and her _Voyager_ crew had once successfully separated the savvy, intelligent blonde Earth woman from the Collective and worked hard for many years to restore her sense of individuality. _Most of those drones are still living beings_, he had once argued repeatedly during those discussions. _If it were you, would you want everyone to simply give up and vaporize YOU?_ Not so surprisingly, Ducane discovered that a majority of people ended up favoring Starfleet's repeated efforts to forcibly confront the Borg. What now bothered him the most, however, was that – in the end – those very same classmates had won him over to their side.

_One small mistake… just ONE with these 'automatons'… and your entire society becomes Borg._

The Borg threat throughout much of Starfleet's history was undeniable, a reality that brought startling clarity to even the most peace loving of individuals. Ducane had fought in defense of his ship and his crew before, but he had not yet killed anyone. And during his very brief tenure as Captain of the _Relativity_, he had also never needed to order the destruction of an entire ship… much less one crewed by _thousands_ of humanoids.

_They're just Borg_, a part of his subconscious kept repeating over and over in his mind. Thomas discovered rather suddenly that he hated that part of him, the beast lurking inside that enjoyed using his ship's powerful weapons. He lay down on the bed for a moment and tried to relax, but sleep at this point was very far away and impossible to find. Rising to his feet, he moved to the small desk in the living area and activated the interface function linking his work station to the Timeship's main computer.

"Computer, access the sensor records of the Borg vessel we recently defeated," he requested briskly.

"_Acknowledged_."

Ducane had been told once that the female computer voice had not changed over the centuries. His experiences while time traveling in the past had only served to confirm the rumor. Still, he was unused to hearing the _Relativity_'s computer actually speak – Data regularly relied on a direct neural interface with the sophisticated, centralized system. That had usually negated the need for the rest of the crew to make regular use of the verbal interface. Shaking off pleasant memories of his mentor and friend, the Captain returned his attention to the work station. "Computer. Use the Christopher Pike tactical combat scale and analyze the ship's power curve. I want you to calculate the total offensive and defensive potential of that cube."

There was a soft electronic whir of activity as the data was instantly computed and uploaded to his work station. "_Using the Christopher Pike tactical rating scale, the Borg cube has an offensive rating of 879 and a defensive rating of 1,029_."

He let the data sink in for a moment before continuing. "Now list the same statistics for the _Relativity_."

Again the computer responded quickly to his inquiry. "_The starship U.S.S. _Relativity_ has a total offensive rating of 23,472. The defensive total is 24,192_."

Ducane nodded in approval. "Computer," he persisted firmly. "Given the lopsided advantage in firepower and defensive capabilities possessed by this starship, please calculate the Borg's most probable approach to overpowering us. In our next confrontation, how will they try and defeat us?"

"_There are two likely possibilities_," replied the voice of the computer. "_Either the Borg will try to covertly smuggle assimilation-capable nanoprobes inside your shields, or they will recruit more than one vessel – a fleet sizeable enough to overpower the_ Relativity's _superior power curve_."

"How could they hope to get inside our shielding?"

"_The Borg are patient. First they will develop a way to track you. Then their Collective will likely attempt to partially assimilate one or more of your crewmen. Assuming that you send an away team aboard one of their ships – as has been done in the past – they would certainly have the opportunity_."

"Thank you." The Captain deactivated the work station and leaned back in his seat, gently massaging his forehead with the fingers on his right hand. _You're going to have to confront them again_, his subconscious thoughts persistently reminded him. _If Tolian Soran is allowed to complete his plan, all of history will be permanently altered forever. And if you make even ONE simple mistake…_

_Assimilation_.

Ducane's train of thought was interrupted by the light, electronic sound of the door chime. "Captain, it is Commander Frank Roberts," he heard the person on the other side of the door say. "At least for a brief time, I would very much like to speak with you."

"By all means then, come in." Ducane called out, pushing his rolling chair back away from the desk to allow himself a bit more breathing room. For now he had no more need for the work station.

The entrance door slid open and Frank Roberts entered slowly, his expression as calm and controlled as usual. "You are isolating yourself Captain," the former Starfleet Commander pointed out. "The Preservers allowed us the opportunity to form an experienced _team_. I suggest that you take full advantage of the talent around you, since any one of us, by ourselves, may prove to be fallible."

"Do Kirk and Picard have doubts about me?" asked Ducane. "Their reputations in Starfleet history have become legend. If they think I'm doing something wrong, then I'd appreciate knowing…"

"Both men have complete confidence in you."

The Captain remained unconvinced. "How can you be _that_ certain?" he asked pointedly.

"Because they allowed _me_ to talk to you," Roberts chuckled with mild amusement. "Trust me, if either individual felt that you were behaving improperly, they would have said something. I haven't ever been a Captain, but I have served under a few. You would be the first to know if they took issue with the decisions you are making."

There was a long silence as Ducane thought the matter over further. "We're going to have to confront Soran again," he observed. "Even if he does follow through on his threat to send the Borg after Earth, my duty is clear… I have no other choice in the matter."

Roberts nodded. "If that is the case, then why are you here? Shouldn't you be working with the rest of us to come up with a strategy that will take the Doctor by surprise?"

"No," decided the _Relativity_ Captain, shaking his head back and forth negatively. "I need a few minutes to really think about this first. I need to get it clear in my head just which of us is the true villain in this matter. After what we just did, I'm not so sure any longer."

"Captain, you must not think…"

Ducane unexpectedly swiveled around in his seat to fully face Roberts. "Tolian Soran is defending his _family_," he pointed out. "Yes he is using time travel as the device to defend them, but that is what he swore to do when he married his wife. That is what a father does when his children are threatened. My ancestors on Earth didn't have directed, discharge weapons in their early days, but they still used what they had to keep their loved ones safe, even if all they had was a sharpened rock. What the Doctor is doing is not so very different than what those people did – he simply has another 'tool' at his disposal that people living in less advanced civilizations did not. Our Starfleet legalese might have us think that stopping him is the correct thing to do, but I have paused for a moment to think because I can definitely see matters from his perspective."

"Very well," relented Roberts suddenly, accepting the Captain's subtle invitation to analyze the situation in greater detail. "I have several pertinent questions for you. _If_ your family were killed by the Borg, would you kill all of the inhabitants on another world in order to escape from the painful memories?"

"I would not," admitted Roberts.

"If your family were killed by the Borg, would you callously sacrifice the future lives of other sentient life forms in order to save them?"

"No."

"You also have time travel capabilities and use it as a tool, but primarily for observation and study." The android could see that he was beginning to successfully frame the issue in its proper perspective for the young Captain. "Dr. Soran wants his family back, but he doesn't _care_ who else is hurt or killed in his efforts to restore them to the timeline. It is not wrong for him to want to prevent the tragedy that destroyed his loved ones and the El Aurian civilization, but it _is_ wrong for him to callously disregard the safety of everyone else in the process. With Soran it has always been about _him_, about what _he_ wants."

"I know," Ducane decided somewhat reluctantly. "At this point, however, I just can't see this situation unfolding in any way that doesn't end up creating a huge mess." He cast a fatigued smile in Roberts' direction. "You are so much like Data," he observed. "And yet, you are also so very different. I know that sounds like a cliché, but there is a noticeable difference between the two of you."

"_Then perhaps you should be speaking with both of us_."

Frank Roberts and Thomas Ducane whirled at the unexpected sound of the new voice. "Data." Roberts grinned in recognition, his emotion chip driving his electronically stimulated feelings with fresh new hope. "Where have you been?"

The isomorphic projection of Data appeared as real and near perfect as always. He was standing next to Ducane's bed, but took a few seconds to seat himself along its edge very near to the spot that the Captain had chosen earlier. "_I have been extremely busy_," he responded. "_Exploring options can get extremely complicated while searching through the combined subspace archives of hundreds of thousands of races. I have discovered electronic archives stored within subspace that span countless millenia_."

"Have you learned anything that can help us?" Roberts wondered curiously.

"_Yes. I am exploring several alternatives as we speak. One in particular, if it pans out, would certainly do much to resolve the crisis with Doctor Soran_."

"Go ahead. Let's hear your ideas," suggested Ducane.

Astonishingly, Data shook his head. "_The Starfleet Protocol will not allow me to elaborate at this time. As you in the past, you will have to trust me_."

"Data, until very recently you used to be the _Captain_ of this Timeship," Ducane reminded him sternly. "Are you sincerely telling me that you're going to keep the crew aboard the _Relativity_ completely in the dark about something this important?"

The projection of Data smirked slightly. "_If you will remember, Captain Ducane, I did not always tell you everything even during the time I served as your superior officer_."

"Yes, I know. This type of thing was _just_ as maddening then," sighed Ducane with frustration.

"_Do you still trust me?_"

"Of course."

"_Then proceed with your plans to approach Soran again. You have already interfaced the _Relativity_'s main computer with subspace and used the Preserver network to successfully separate a Borg cube's vinculum communication from the greater Collective. Continue to learn how to use the resources as I have. Starfleet officials may protest when they read your logs, but there is too much at stake for them to offer any strong resistance to your research_."

"As far as that subspace network of yours goes, I have learned that I am strictly a rank amateur," noted Ducane with a fatigued sigh. "I tinkered with it a little bit, but it was Commander Roberts who managed to establish the jamming network." For the first time in a while he chuckled. "I'll bet the Borg were pretty astonished when they went to warp and failed to escape from it. That will have even _their_ hive mind scratching its Collective head for awhile."

"_Use caution_," Data warned the two men. "_The Borg must not suspect that a subspace network exists. If they discover even a single clue to its existence, they will relentlessly pursue its location. Their infiltration of those resources would also greatly alter the future_."

Ducane nodded with understanding. "In all sorts of ways," he mused. "I'm going to come up with a new strategy and go after Soran again. So if you need anything from us, you'll have to review that plan and submit any changes before we confront him a second time."

"_All I need from you is a 48 hour wait_," countered Data. "_If the option I have already set in motion completes successfully, you will then discover that your task has grown significantly easier_."

"What are you going to do?" The Captain didn't need to see any emotion on Data's face. "I know… I know," he growled, throwing up his hands in frustration. "You can't tell us."

The two androids watched him silently for a moment, and Ducane began to grow uncomfortable. "_Wait 48 hours_," Data suggested. "_After that, go after Soran with everything you have. I will support anything you choose to do_."

"And his threat to send the Borg after Earth?"

"_Follow your instincts Thomas Ducane. They will not fail you, nor will I_."

As quickly as he appeared, the image of Data faded away.


	8. Behind The Lines

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Behind The Lines

* * *

**

_Enterprise_ NX-01, Near the Agni White Dwarf, July 24, 2268

* * *

Lt. Malcolm Reed sighed with growing dissatisfaction. Archer's chief tactical officer was standing in the center of the large room, which now appeared even more spacious after all of the exercise equipment had been carefully pushed against the walls. In their place, protective drop cloths had been carefully unrolled to cover most of the smooth floor. Reed was wearing one of _Enterprise_'s standard, extra-vehicular activity (EVA) space suits and trying his best to hold still. Benjamin Sisko stood next to him, also wearing one of the suits. Unlike Reed, however, the Captain was using a highly charged air compressor connected to a paint sprayer and dousing him with some sort of clear, quick drying chemical.

"Really Captain Sisko. Do you realize how long it's going to take to clean up the ship's gymnasium after all of this?" Glancing down at the soaked cloth underneath his feet, Reed sighed heavily.

"Hold still Lieutenant," Sisko stated reassuringly in his usual, deep baritone. He waved the makeshift airbrush gently back and forth, continuing to meticulously coat every centimeter of Reed's spacesuit.

"My faceplate is blurring," protested Reed indignantly. "Once we land on the Tholian planet, how the devil are we supposed to see where we're going?"

The former Deep Space Nine Commander grinned reassuringly. "The chemical dries _clear_, Mr. Reed," he informed the _Enterprise_ tactical officer. "Without it, these suits would never be able to endure the heat that we will encounter while on the surface."

Standing next to the Lieutenant, both Hoshi and Phlox were similar dressed in environmental suits that had also been treated with the chemical. "This stuff _does_ dry as fast as promised," announced Hoshi proudly, moving her arms from side to side and bending them normally at the elbow joints. The traditional burnt orange and silver trimmed suit appeared unchanged and her movements unrestrained. "I can still see the coating though if I look closely enough," she observed. "It looks like clear rubber, about ten millimeters thick."

Phlox's own assessment differed slightly. "These suits have _always_ been awkward, even before modifying them further," the Doctor protested irritably. He took several tentative steps forward, and then carefully began practicing adjusting the hoses on the back of Hoshi's suit with his thick gloves. "I couldn't disagree with you more Hoshi… it's _harder _than ever to move in these things."

"You haven't worked into the newest layer yet. Keep moving around normally," suggested Sisko. "The substance – once it sets – should crease like paper wherever it bends, making movement gradually easier." He stepped away from Malcolm and moved closer to the other pair. "However, while Lt. Reed's outer layer is drying, I need the two of you to sit down and face toward me. I'd like to make use of this opportunity and spray the bottom of your boots again."

"Please tell me that this is the _last_ coat," groaned Phlox, even as he complied and dropped to the floor next to Hoshi. The crinkling, plastic drop cloths wrinkled slightly around him.

"Don't worry Doctor," chuckled an amused Sisko, even as the sprayer hissed softly while spraying out more of the liquid sealant. "I'll let you run this contraption next. My own suit needs a final coat."

"Captain, you've got yourself a _deal_," decided Phlox with renewed enthusiasm, flashing one of his infamous wide Denobulan smiles.

The four of them continued working steadily for another half hour to complete the latest batch of modified space suits. While they were working, the door slid open and admitted Captain Archer. He was dressed in heavy, protective blue coveralls and wearing a gas mask. Glancing at their faces, one by one, his gaze finally settled on Reed. "Progress?"

"Everything is going very well sir," nodded Reed confidently, despite his impatience at the pace of the project. "Captain Sisko's synthesized chemical should give us the extra protection from excessive heat that we will need. So far, the hoses and electrical components are holding up well… everything has tested out fine. We won't be able to adjust any of the electronics through the protective barrier, but we will be able to recharge the oxygen tanks as often as necessary."

The hissing of the paint sprayer stopped abruptly, and Sisko smiled wryly at Archer. "At this point we only have _one_ question. How many suits are we going to need?"

Archer paused, regarding the Captain from the future thoughtfully. "You're _certain_ that this concoction of yours will fully protect our environmental suits from heat in excess of 750 degrees Kelvin?"

"_Very_ certain," announced Sisko. "However, Captain Janeway and I are fully capable of completing this mission. As long as _Enterprise_ can move us within range of the Tholian home world, there is no need for you or your crew to take any further risks."

"Apparently you haven't spoken at length yet with my Chief Engineer," countered Archer. "He would be the first to tell you that we didn't leave Earth in _Enterprise_ to let other people take all the risks. If we're truly going all the way to see this planet that you've told us remains unexplored by humans even in your time, then my crew and I want to be with you when it happens so we can see this place for ourselves." His gaze swept up and down Sisko's space suit and the newly sprayed, quick drying substance coating it. "We're going to need _ten_ of those," he decided. "I'll want to have at least one spare."

Phlox groaned audibly. "_Ten?_ We only have four! Captain, I need to get back to work… I was planning on spending the afternoon in Sickbay…"

"Your plans have changed," Archer stated decisively. "You're coming with us. We may need you to treat heat related injuries or… something."

"It's going to be mighty crowded inside your shuttle pod," predicted Sisko.

"Then it will be crowded," concluded Archer. He turned and walked back out into the corridor, leaving the others to finish their task.

* * *

Commander Charles Tucker the 3rd strode briskly across _Enterprise_'s small hangar bay, carrying a pair of five gallon pails. Each of them was filled with a dark black, tar-like ooze. He set them down next to shuttle pod one, where Kathryn Janeway and several members hand picked from his engineering staff were busily working with trowels, over-sized paint brushes and other buckets. They were smearing the pungent goo across the small space vessel's outer hull … all of it, even the windows.

"Here you go Captain Janeway," said Tucker doubtfully. "This is the latest and greatest from our food synthesizers." His troubled gaze drifted toward the shuttle pod, where the surface area already coated with the substance was already starting to dry. "Do we really have to smear that stuff over everything?"

"Yes we do," chuckled the ex-_Voyager_ Captain with a firm smile. "Keep those buckets coming, Mr. Tucker, unless you happen to have a spare cloaking device lying around somewhere."

The Commander glanced at her skeptically. "A what?"

Almost immediately Janeway remembered her earlier trip back through time and recognized the reason behind his confusion. "_Stealth_ technology," she said, correcting her initial reference. "You _have_ encountered alien races by now who can shield their vessels from sensors, haven't you?"

"Oh…" Tucker nodded, catching on. "Yeah, I get it. Yes we have. We've even run into a few who can turn their ships completely invisible, believe it or not." He cocked his head with new ideas whirling through his mind. "Why didn't you just bring one of those so-called 'cloaking' devices with you?"

Janeway rose to her feet and paused for a moment, setting down the half empty pail she was holding. She swabbed the remaining black ooze from the end of her brush onto the shuttle pod and then laid it next to the five gallon pail before turning and approaching him. "Data didn't want to risk permanently leaving technology from the future in your century," she informed him cautiously in a lower tone of voice. "He was worried that this mission might fail, and if it does then your crew needs to return to their normal duties with minimum knowledge of our interference." She shrugged her shoulders. "Even in my century,

the Tholian home world remains a mystery… they've always been isolationists who trade goods only on the fringes of their border. So what we're basically dealing with here amounts to a complete unknown."

Folding his arms, Trip regarded her thoughtfully. "Just _how_ likely is it that this mission to fail?"

"I can't answer that Mr. Tucker," the _Voyager_ Captain replied truthfully. "All I can tell you is that the odds of success are in our favor, particularly with our pre-knowledge of the other incident that is currently taking place out there." She waved toward the outer hull. "One small pod, invisible to sensors, should realistically be able to breach their defenses and land long enough to complete our mission."

"But you can't be certain?"

"Nothing is ever certain in our line of work," replied Janeway. "You know that."

"If it _does_ fail," Tucker persisted, continuing to prompt her. "Then what happens? Do you and Captain Sisko just return to your regular lives wherever it is you came from and leave us here to fend for ourselves? Data told T'Pol that our _entire_ future is at stake."

He was surprised at the lengthy pause from the normally confident starship Captain, but in this case she took her time before responding to his latest inquiry. "_If_ this mission fails," Kathryn Janeway told him firmly, emphasizing each word carefully, "then Benjamin Sisko and I will very likely be permanently _stranded_ here – assuming, of course, that we are able to successfully reverse the slingshot maneuver and return _Enterprise_ to your century."

The look of surprise on Trip's face was total, and he actually paled slightly at the revelation. "Why is that? Can't you just… can't you just reverse the transporter beam that brought you here?" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the corridor. "We've got a spiffy new model of our own right here, and I can tell you from experience that the beam works both ways." He studied her concerned reaction curiously, and a possible answer dawned on him. "You came back through time _and_ space…"

Janeway shook her head regretfully. "I wish I could explain all that's going on to you in greater detail," she told him. "But without understanding the big picture, I'm afraid that it wouldn't make much sense to you. Suffice it to say that Captain Sisko and I _volunteered_ to come, even after learning from Data about the colossal risk we were taking."

Tucker whistled softly. "_If_ the Tholians catch us running around on the surface of their home world, what eventually happens to you won't matter much. It won't matter to any of us…"

Scolding the Commander mildly, Janeway handed him a pair of empty pails. "Try focusing on the positive. If we're going to get through this, we have to believe that we're going to _succeed_, Mr. Tucker," she suggested. "And you really should be working instead of talking. We need more of this synthesized, TWS4 derivative. Your staff and I haven't even started covering the ventral hull yet."

Accepting the buckets, Tucker turned his head away from the nauseating smell emanating from inside. For the moment, the direness of the situation faded and his humor returned. "Well I'd like to know how you're going to get this… this… _stuff_ off of our shuttle once we're done," he stated honestly. "Right now it looks _terrible_ – like it flew through a tar factory or something. You keep telling us that – once you leave – you're hoping that our crew will keep your time traveling a secret. Well, if our shuttle looks like a huge chunk of black coal… that kind of thing is going to be hard to explain to the Starfleet brass."

"Don't worry Commander," Janeway chuckled with amusement. "The vacuum of space will harden this substance into a hard, protective shell. In addition to absorbing standard sensor emissions, the presence of this compound on your hull will help insulate the interior from the extreme heat of the Tholian home world. However, the higher temperature will weaken the protective shell considerably, allowing it to be easily cracked and peeled off once your shuttle pod returns to space and super cools a second time." She smiled wryly in his direction. "If you think _this_ job is tedious and disgusting, perhaps you should check in on Captain Sisko and Lt. Reed. The substance they're spraying your space suits with to protect them from the heat smells even _more_ obnoxious than this stuff."

Tucker shook his head negatively. "No thanks," he decided. "They've got their assignment, and I've got mine." He paused, looking over his shoulder curiously and held up one of the empty pails. "How many more of these do you need?"

"Keep them coming until I tell you to stop," said Janeway. She brushed back a loose wave of her long red hair and picked up her paintbrush, a sudden realization striking her. "And while you're at it, can you try increasing the flow of fresh air in here?" she asked earnestly. "I'll be the first to admit it… this stuff smells worse than I ever imagined."

"Really, I hadn't noticed," grumbled Tucker. "I'll see what I can do, Captain." He passed swiftly through the hangar bay exit and moved back out into the adjoining corridor.

* * *

_Enterprise_ NCC-1701, Tholian Space, Alpha Quadrant

* * *

_Captain's Log, Supplemental. On my order, the _Enterprise_ has entered Tholian space. We have been traveling behind enemy lines for over nine hours now, but have not yet encountered other vessels. I don't believe the status quo will last for long, however. Given the predictable, overly protective nature of the Tholians where their territory is concerned, I do not expect that it will be much longer before we are challenged. In the meantime, Mr. Spock is using this opportunity to conduct long range sensor scans that would not otherwise be possible. I am told that very few Starfleet probes have entered this region of space, and those that did so were never heard from again.

* * *

_

Kirk made the brief log entry right before leaving his quarters. He stepped into a nearby turbolift and discovered – upon reaching the bridge – that there was fresh activity from the on-duty personnel. Uhura was obviously listening to something interesting on communications, while Spock and Chekov stood near the science station quietly debating an unknown topic.

"Something Spock?" asked Kirk, intrigued.

The Vulcan turned toward him and nodded affirmatively. "I believe so Captain." Spock's gaze shifted to the viewscreen, where a series of large, dark and blocky asteroids floated freely in the empty vacuum of space. "Sensors are detecting significant power emanations coming from inside that asteroid field. Mr. Chekov and I have just pinpointed a specific origin."

"Transfer coordinates to the helm," said Kirk with a pleased smile. "Mr. Sulu, let's investigate."

"Aye sir," the Asian helmsman replied as his Captain took a seat behind him.

Slow and steady, the _Enterprise_ – under Sulu's careful guidance – nosed persistently deeper into the sparsely populated asteroid belt. Most of the objects within were large, slow moving and easily avoided. Only the smaller, denser clouds of smaller rocks were moving with any significant velocity, and their diminutive nature represented no threat to the starship's powerful deflector shields. Pleased by the raw power that the starship's impulse engines placed at his disposal, Hikaru Sulu plunged the _Enterprise_ directly toward the source of Spock's mysterious sensor readings. The bridge around them shuddered slightly as smaller pieces of rocky debris consistently disintegrated or shattered against their deflectors.

The turbolift snapped open to release both Scotty and Leonard McCoy. The Doctor continued moving toward his usual position next to the Captain's chair while Scotty elected to seat himself at the engineering station. He smiled at the woman he relieved, asking her to come back in a half hour. "I'll watch her for awhile," he reassured the sandy haired, attractive young crewman.

"I've got Sickbay ready in case this plan of yours doesn't go well," grunted McCoy with his usual skepticism. "Here's hoping that it does."

"Nothing ever goes as planned, especially military missions," chuckled Kirk. "Relax Bones, we're very good at reacting to the changing situations we're presented with." He saw the Doctor's doubtful expression and smiled mischievously. "Really, we regularly hold practice drills and everything."

"So do I," the Doctor told him imperiously, refusing to give in to the temptation to crack jokes in so serious a situation.

Uhura was still busy listening intensely to the local communications traffic. "Captain," she said suddenly, glancing toward Kirk. "I'm picking up some sort of artificially modulated radiation," she informed him. "I can't be certain yet whether it's a signal of some kind, but it's definitely artificially created and not something that occurs randomly in nature."

"Fascinating," declared Spock with his usual candor. "Patch the data through to my station Lieutenant."

"Immediately sir," responded Uhura professionally. "So far, the universal translator hasn't been able to make any sense of this signal. That's more than a little bit puzzling, if this is indeed a transmission, because we do have samples of Tholian language on file from our previous encounter with them."

On the viewscreen, a massive silver and black asteroid completely covered with various sized craters grew steadily larger. It was located near the center of the small debris field, and very few of the other rocky objects surrounding it came close to matching its size. "That would appear to be the source of the power emanations we detected _and_ Lt. Uhura's mysterious signal."

McCoy looked at the barren, scarred surface of the asteroid and snorted skeptically. "There's nothing there Spock," he pointed out. "It's just another rock in space."

The Vulcan swiveled in his seat and cast a confident gaze toward McCoy. "The origin of the power source is deep underground," he reported informatively. "Readings indicate the depth to be approximately three point two kilometers below the surface, to be exact."

Seated comfortably in the center command seat, Kirk rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "What the devil would the Tholians keep buried beneath the surface of an asteroid?" he asked rhetorically. "Are they conducting some kind of scientific research? If so, why would they work so hard to keep their facility so well hidden?" It didn't take him long to come to resolve his misgivings. "Yellow alert," the Captain ordered. "Full power to our shields and activate all defensive systems."

Around him, the flurry of activity as the bridge crew responded promptly to the blaring alert klaxon reassured him considerably. Organized and efficient as ever, they were the best in the business.

"It's nothing peaceful," guessed Chekov cynically. "Perhaps they are experimenting on our people."

Spock shook his head. "Negative Ensign," he replied, intently scrutinizing all available sensor data. "I am detecting several dozen mineral-based, Tholian life signs beneath the surface, but that is all. There are no other life signs registering, only the presence of a very powerful energy source." Turning toward the viewscreen he continued, "Additionally, there are currently no signs of other vessels in the immediate vicinity."

Continuing to monitor the helm controls, Sulu grew thoughtful. "We're still reasonably close to the Federation border. Could this possibly be a lookout post?"

"If so, then it's certainly strategically well placed," Kirk agreed. "They're in a position to watch more than three sectors along the edge of their border with Starfleet."

"If that were the case then I would be able to detect significant sensor activity," Spock countered. "If there is indeed a long-range, underground sensor station down there, then all equipment is currently idle. It is doubtful that they even know we are here."

"Where I come from, it's not polite to show up without saying hello," interjected Scotty. "Perhaps we should knock on the door and let them know they have a visitor."

Glancing at his Chief Engineer thoughtfully, Kirk smiled wryly. "I think you're right on the mark there, Scotty," he decided briskly. "Mr. Sulu. Please lock our phaser banks on the surface of that asteroid and fire three short bursts at thirty percent of maximum intensity."

Seated next to each other as usual, both Checkov and Sulu exchanged grim but satisfied looks. "Aye sir," acknowledged Sulu. He gazed down into the tactical console's viewer, which had begun to rise into its upright, locked position the instant the Captain's call for yellow alert sounded.

Guided by Sulu's steady hand, hot lances of blue fire stabbed out from the _Enterprise_'s phaser banks and tore deep, smoldering trenches in the surface of the asteroid. Three times the Lieutenant fired – just as ordered – and three times the energy beams raked the surface crust above the concealed, underground Tholian lair. Pausing after the first shots were completed, Sulu waited patiently.

"Fire three more shots," Kirk stated firmly. "Let's make certain they know we're here."

Spock was studying the newest sensor telemetry, and he glanced up with a satisfied nod. "They know," he confirmed. "I am detecting communications traffic from a small, automated relay station concealed near the horizon."

"I'm analyzing the signal and running it through the main computer," noted Uhura, pausing to listen. "It's definitely Tholian and not encrypted. Captain, they're transmitted using a _non-military_ frequency." She looked up with apparent surprise. "It's just a general distress call."

"Maybe there really _is_ a civilian science station down there," wondered McCoy skeptically.

"Mr. Sulu, lock our forward phaser banks onto that Comm-station and destroy it," decided Kirk. "Let's see how whoever is down there reacts when they can't call for help."

Once again twin beams of blue fire streaked across the viewscreen, touching an unseen point far beneath them on the distant surface of the asteroid. Squinting slightly, the Captain noticed a tiny explosion for just a brief instant. "Target destroyed sir," announced Sulu. Below them, the viewscreen image clearly showed huge clouds of slowly swirling dust and debris from the earlier phaser strikes still hanging above ground in the asteroid's light gravity field.

"Captain. Using our phasers on the surface will simply generate mild shock waves down below," Chekov noted with slight disapproval. "A photon torpedo or two at maximum yield would bring the entire roof down on them."

"Understood Ensign," acknowledged Kirk with a sharp smile. He held up a cautious right hand in warning. "I'm not ready to declare all out war just yet. We still don't know for certain if they've actually killed any of our people – only that ships have been apprehended with all aboard. If we inflict casualties on the Tholians before we gather all the facts, any hope of resolving this matter peacefully will immediately evaporate. If they're holding our people hostage and we enrage them…"

"With respect Captain, the Tholians have made it very clear on numerous occasions that they do not tolerate aggressive moves across their border," Scotty reminded him. "They _will_ interpret our presence here as an act of war."

Kirk folded his arms defiantly in front of him. "I want our ships back," he replied brusquely. "If they get to cross our border and attack our civilians, then we damn well get to come in here to determine for ourselves just what the devil is going on."

Standing reliably at Kirk's left, McCoy sighed heavily. "That's the kind of logic that gets people killed."

"Nevertheless, the Captain's logic is sound," said Spock flatly. "Provocative acts such as piracy must be forcefully confronted, or they are likely to continue. Statistically speaking, the bully mentality is one of the most predictable personality traits common to all races."

"I should have known you would side with him," growled the Doctor irritably.

Spock's left eyebrow soared at the unexpected disapproval from his colleague. "I assure you Doctor, I am supporting the most reasonable, logical point of view."

"Sure you are."

Most Starfleet Captains would never tolerate such discourse on their bridge, particularly during a tense situation. As usual, James T. Kirk was one of the exceptions to the standard rule. He knew his people well after years of serving with them, and was fully confident that they would remain sharp even while easing their anxiety through casual banter. Still, Spock and McCoy's verbal exchanges, in particular, were famous for getting out of hand. Each officer knew the other's 'emotional buttons' and each was willing to occasionally test the other's tolerance. Since he lacked the intense emotional training common to Vulcans, the Doctor historically was even easier to rattle during tense situations. On this occasion, however, Spock mercilessly decided to let McCoy have the last word. The Vulcan returned his attention to ship's sensors, noticing unexpectedly that they were no longer alone.

"Captain, there is another ship out there," announced Spock ominously. "A Tholian military vessel has just entered sensor range and is on a direct course to intercept us at warp four."

"Someone heard that call for help," Scotty mused thoughtfully. "Captain, we've given whoever is living beneath the surface of that rock down there a good thump on the noggin. I know you want to force a confrontation, but wouldn't it be better to return to our side of the border? Since the Tholians haven't actually caught us on their side of the border, returning to Federation territory would put us in a much better position from which to negotiate." He shrugged his shoulders. "Remaining here and fighting with their border patrols will only serve to aggravate the Tholians. That makes a traditionally intolerant species even less likely to cooperate."

Considering the suggestion for a moment, Kirk's hazel eyes flashed with defiance. "We _might_ indeed be in a better position to negotiate, Mr. Scott," he conceded, "but I'd like to know _what_ specifically we would use to negotiate with the Tholians when we don't yet have any solid evidence that they do indeed have our missing ships and personnel." His chair turned sharply in Spock's direction. "Where is that new contact coming from?"

The Vulcan watched his sensor readouts carefully. "The vessel is tailing us, moving into a defensive position directly between the _Enterprise_ and our side of the border."

McCoy took a deep breath and exhaled uneasily. "A really, really wise religious leader and philosopher who once lived on Earth used to suggest 'turning the other cheek'," he reminded Kirk. "Just when in our history did we decide to abandon that kind of advice?"

"We have _already_ done our best to bend over backwards in this case Doctor," the Captain reminded him. "Starfleet has repeatedly sent messages of protest to the central Tholian Assembly, all of which have gone unanswered while additional ships mysteriously disappear." He smiled grimly. "Philosophy always works better on paper than it does when practiced by people who live in a very real, dangerous world."

"Doctor McCoy may be correct," Spock chimed in. "Logic would suggest…"

"Logic is it?" Kirk stared at the agitated dust clouds still swirling above the surface of the asteroid intensely. "What about common sense? Logic may suggest that we should 'turn the other cheek' and offer compassion to a belligerent opponent. Pragmatism, on the other hand, would suggest that if we _have_ already turned that cheek and our enemy slaps us again, then the _third_ blow belongs to us."

The Vulcan assessed the Captain's statement and nodded in agreement. "Indeed."

"Mr. Chekov," Kirk's gaze fell intently on the back of his navigator. "Plot a course directly into the heart of Tholian space. Mr. Sulu, as soon as Chekov is ready, engage at warp six. Outrun the other ship."

Both men chimed in with a virtually simultaneous "Aye sir."

Breaking orbit, the massive Constitution-Class _Enterprise_ cruised slowly away from the large asteroid – pausing just long enough to reach the edge of the debris field – and then leaped into to warp. Their Tholian pursuer altered course immediately and accelerated to follow.

"They are matching speed Captain," reported Spock, keeping a watchful eye on the other ship.

Sulu glanced back at Kirk, but the Captain displayed only his poker face. "Increase to warp seven."

"Aye Captain," Sulu acknowledged with a pleased smile. "Accelerating to warp seven."

There was a brief pause while Kirk waited to see if the Tholians could match the speed change. Seconds later, Spock glanced over toward the Captain's seat and shook his head. "Our pursuer is stabilizing at a steady warp six point nine," he stated informatively. "It's falling farther behind us."

"Lieutenant Uhura, contact the Captains of the _Hood_ and the _Potemkin_," continued Kirk. "Have them cross the border just far enough to attract the Tholians' attention – I want the Assembly to have to _choose_ between multiple targets. Other ships in the area can come after us or guard their border."

"Aye sir," Uhura smiled dryly, turning toward her communications station and complying with the order. She was accustomed to the advanced tactical strategy regularly used by the confident, youthful Captain sitting in the center seat.

"Four other Tholian ships have moved into position in front of us," reported Spock, continuing to keep a close eye on the starship's long range sensors. "Two additional vessels have joined the ship trailing us."

"Red alert," Kirk surveyed the bridge as the alarm klaxon began blaring around them. Bright red alarm lights at various points all over the ship began blinking steadily, serving as a backup reminder to all hands that the _Enterprise_ was now at battle stations. Satisfied that the ship was on full alert, the Captain activated the ship's all call. "All hands, prepare for combat maneuvers… this is _not_ a drill."

"Captain, all seven ships are breaking formation and are moving to surround us."

"Alter course directly toward the four ships in front of us. Mr. Sulu, target one of them with full phasers and fire as we pass by."

The determined helmsman's back stiffened in anticipation during the final brief instant that the four ships in front of them rocketed toward them at faster than light speed. "Firing phasers, Captain," he stated tersely. With the specific timing of the discharges carefully controlled by the main computer, twin beams of blue fire repeatedly flashed briefly on the viewscreen.

"Target hit and disabled," commented Spock.

The bridge around them suddenly rocked tumultuously back and forth. A second hit by enemy fire shook them again, but everyone was fully prepared for the battle and held on tightly. "Mr. Chekov," snapped Kirk fiercely. "For the moment at least your accuracy remains reliable. Take out at least two of them."

"Aye Captain," replied Chekov. His thick, Russian accent tended to be even more obvious during tense situations. "Torpedoes away… _now_." He fired four of the photonic warheads at the enemy, two of which slammed into the lead Tholian cruiser and blew it into smithereens. A third torpedo exploded against the next vessel's shields and it dropped out of warp, current status temporarily unknown. The fourth shot missed all targets completely as they took evasive action. It vanished swiftly into the empty vastness of space beyond, trailing a bright red tendril of rapidly fading energy in its wake.

Multiple circular, golden-colored charges from the remaining four ships slammed into the _Enterprise_'s deflector shields. For the moment, everything held together but it was clear that the attacks – given time – would inevitably wear down the starship's powerful defenses. Scotty shook his head grimly as he watched the engineering status indicators. "That's highly charged plasma that they're firing at us, Captain," he said with a cautioning tone of voice. "Their ships may be smaller than we are and relatively easy to disable…" He trailed off momentarily, barking orders to his team down in Engineering. "…but they've got plenty of firepower at their disposal – that's for sure," he finished somberly.

"Mr. Sulu, fire at will," commanded Kirk.

Additional phaser shots lit up the viewscreen, and another Tholian vessel promptly dropped out of the fight. _Enterprise_ pivoted cleanly on an imaginary axis, and its phasers discharged again, this time slamming into another enemy ship. "They've definitely noticed we're here," said Sulu with a grim smile as the newly hit vessel began trailing a glittering cloud of scarlet radiation in its wake. With all maneuvering capability temporarily unavailable, the arrowhead-shaped enemy target tumbled awkwardly through space. The helmsman ignored it, turning sharply to port and angling toward other targets.

"_Ten_ additional Tholian vessels have just dropped out of warp are joining the remaining strike force," Spock noted. "It should be noted that we are now moving deeper inside enemy territory and beyond the point of safe return, Captain. In ten seconds, there will no longer be any guarantee that our shields will hold long enough for us to return to our side of the border."

"Understood." Kirk's eyes caught Chekov's uneasy glance backward. "Begin firing torpedoes, two at a time," he told the feisty young Ensign. "It's time to pretend that we're more wounded than we actually are. Miss the enemy by a hair with your first few shots, then begin shooting more and more erratically as the battle progresses."

"Aye sir." Clearly Chekov did not like the order, but he did his duty and promptly obeyed it.

Spock straightened up abruptly. "Three Tholian vessels behind us have activated their web-based weapon," he reported brusquely. "All three are moving into position and attempting to link up with other undamaged ships. If they are successful in their attempt to surround us with their web shield, our defenses will be significantly less effective."

"Sulu, let's see an aft visual."

"Aye, Captain." The Lieutenant switched the viewscreen to an image of what lay directly behind the _Enterprise_, where a trio of the familiar, wedge-shaped Tholian attack cruisers already had the beginnings of an energy web in place. Thick, powerful beams of bright orange energy connected the three ships together, and inside the perimeter of the newly generated shield were thinner secondary strands. Between those the bridge crew could see even more threadlike, tertiary filaments.

Watching sparingly as he continued to work the helm, Sulu's eyes widened with surprise. "They're getting faster and faster at putting that weapon in place," he commented, obviously impressed.

"The last time we faced them, several of their ships were battle damaged and not fully functional," Spock noted in response. "However, it does appear as though the technology has been improved… considerably so in a matter of just a few short months."

Kirk studied the screen carefully. "Lock aft phasers on the center ship and destroy it."

Seconds later, Sulu complied with the Captain's newest order. The first two bursts from the forward phaser banks blazed angrily against the crisscrossing strands of the web shield, behind which the central ship protectively hid. The third shot finally penetrated through the energy barrier and seared brightly into the Tholian vessel's hull. In a sudden flash that lasted less than a fraction of a second, the entire shield linking together all three ships collapsed.

Immediately the pair of remaining vessels moved away from their damaged colleague as other enemy ships continued to encircle the _Enterprise_. Unexpectedly, the bridge lights went dark and seconds later a majority of the bridge's key systems began to lose power. Montgomery Scott promptly began cursing irritably, tapping an index finger against the communications device in his right ear. "Lt. Matthews, what's going on down there… _why_ have we lost power?"

As easily as the _Enterprise_ had fired its phaser banks, glowing orange web strands snapped swiftly back into place on the viewscreen. The geometrically shaped shield expanded even more rapidly this time – linking together more than a dozen enemy ships. While the bridge crew of the _Enterprise_ watched with fascination, at least nine more Tholian vessels dropped out of warp on Spock's sensors and joined the rapidly growing fleet.

"Their web technology is not simply a defensive shield designed to surround an enemy," concluded Spock, his back to Kirk while studying the newest sensor telemetry. "There is also a very powerful dampening field in place, one that is meticulously isolating and nullifying the power generated by the combination of matter and anti-matter in our engine core. The flow of energy through our dilithium crystals has been reduced by ninety-two point four percent."

This startling revelation was news to Kirk. Accustomed to being in complete control of a situation, his eyes remained glued to the viewscreen. "Spock, activate the main deflector dish and deploy our electronic countermeasures." His expression was deadly serious. "_Hurry!_"

The Vulcan shook his head negatively. "It's already too late Captain. All main power is off-line."

"Sulu, return the viewscreen to a forward visual."

The helmsman complied with the order and the pattern of the dozens of strands of webbing changed only slightly. "They've got us," said the Lieutenant uneasily as he watched the rest of the shield continue to form. "That's still our plan, right? To allow the Tholians to capture us?"

"Affirmative," agreed Spock. "If we continue to resist, we'll likely anger them enough to destroy us."

Kirk sighed with sudden resignation. "Options."

"Stall for time," recommended Spock. "The Tholians have us completely surrounded Captain. Unless we can get main power back on-line there's simply no way our weapons can penetrate that shield. Even our torpedoes rely on anti-matter warheads, devices that will _not_ detonate without a reliable, uninterrupted flow of energy from a detonator."

McCoy's frustration was obvious and he waved his hands with frustration. "Well, you got your _wish_, Captain!" he snapped heatedly. "We're prisoners… _helpless_ prisoners."

Smiling reassuringly at his friend and colleague, Kirk continued to watch the glowing energy strands interlaced neatly across the entire viewscreen. "All we've got left is battery power," he guessed.

"Aye," Scotty agreed nervously. "_Don't_ fire any more phasers sir, at least not until we can find a way to overcome that dampening field. We've got to reserve our remaining power for critical systems, _especially_ life support."

"Captain," Uhura said suddenly. "I'm receiving an incoming message from the Tholians."

Waving a hand toward the viewscreen, Kirk nodded firmly. "Put it up."

The odd, swirling orange and blue glow from a superheated atmosphere appeared in front of them. Only the top of one Tholian could be seen, his upper torso connecting directly to a head that appeared to have no neck. The two glowing orbs where eyes would normally be intrigued Kirk… were they really eyes of the same sort that humanoids used, or some other form of sensory input? The unusual alien was hidden mostly in shadow, and it raised a clawed, multi-fingered hand and pointed accusingly toward them. "_I am Commander Halitrix_," stated the strange alien being ominously. "_You have knowingly violated Tholian space, which is an act of war according to the laws of the Imperial Tholian Assembly_."

"We're on a rescue mission," responded Kirk bluntly. "Many civilian ships along our common border have vanished in recent days. We've been looking for them, and were anxious to determine if they may have perhaps strayed inadvertently into your space."

"_Your ship has been completely disabled and is now under our control_," snapped Halitrix just as tersely, ignoring the Captain's comment. "_You will attack no more Tholians today. We have more than enough ships available to destroy you if you continue your hostile actions against us_."

"We want our _unarmed_ civilians back," Kirk retorted angrily. "You crossed our border, and now we've crossed yours. Other ships are standing by to join us if you continue your aggression…"

A slight rumble resounded through the bridge, nothing serious but enough to catch everyone's attention. Spock's eyes flickered back to his personal scanner. Soft blue light played across the contours of his face as he studied the new data. "Several of their vessels have moved _inside_ the web shield and have locked their tractor beams onto us."

"_Your ship will be towed to a nearby facility. If you offer no resistance, you will not be harmed. However, all of you will pay a price for your hostile actions against our Assembly_." Halitrix's image blurred periodically as blue and white fire continued to whirl around its crystalline body. Then the transmission simply terminated and – once again – they were left to helplessly stare at the glittering orange strands of the energy web that completely encompassed the large starship.

McCoy appeared horrified at the prospect of being a Tholian prisoner, but Kirk was elated. "I _knew_ it!" the Captain grinned, thumping the arm of his chair with delight. "The _Hood_ and the _Potemkin_ are still lurking out there, so they can't risk simply destroying us. They need to hold us as hostages, and if possible they'll try to take this ship apart and get a better look at our systems. That means we're going deeper inside their space and will more than likely get to see this 'facility' of theirs." He turned thoughtfully toward Spock. "Are long range sensors still on-line?"

"Negative."

"Well that's a major disappointment. Use imaging sensors and zoom technology to get a better look at their ships, especially those web generators. You and Scotty start working on ways to counteract their weaponry and restore our defenses. Once power is back on-line, program the main computer to automatically conduct detailed, long range scans of everything around us."

"What you are asking for will be difficult, Captain," pointed out Spock. "As with the web shield, each ship in the Tholian fleet is contributing to the power and size of the dampening field. Defeating one or two vessels will not be sufficient to allow us an opportunity to escape."

"In other words, the more ships they add to that web, the less chance we have of restoring power."

"Precisely."

"Well Jim, you got what you wanted. We're prisoners."

Kirk glanced sharply at McCoy. "Did I, Bones?" he asked. "Starfleet Intelligence never said anything about a dampening field."

Completely surrounded by the powerful, interlaced strands of the golden-orange energy web, the _Enterprise_ began moving slowly forward as the still growing fleet of Tholian vessels took the starship in tow and headed even farther away from friendly territory.


	9. In Purgatory's Shadow

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**In Purgatory's Shadow

* * *

**

_Enterprise_ NX-01, Inside Tholian Space, July 24, 2268

* * *

Despite his normally calm demeanor, Jonathan Archer felt a distinct note of anxiety while sitting in the center seat for the next half day or so. Once Janeway and Sisko checked in and informed him they were ready, the Captain had issued the order for _Enterprise_ to drop to silent running. Like a stealthy submarine pressing forward through the waters deep beneath one of Earth's oceans, the starship powered down all of its non-essential systems and then proceeded to enter Tholian territory. This was a dangerous move in any century, particularly a future one. Nevertheless Archer and his crew continued to trust and follow orders from the newly arrived ambassadors who had been sent from the future to guide them – ambassadors who just happened to be capable, trained and proven Starfleet Captains.

As predicted, long range sensors detected the presence of no enemy vessels as the starship's hardy warp-five engine drove them farther and farther away from friendly space. Even so, Archer and his two new advisors took no chances. The ship's sensors were drastically scaled back too… reducing them to an occasional, shortened pulse that radiated outward just once every five minutes. The vast majority of the NX-01's abilities to detect and navigate around interstellar objects were reduced almost entirely to a 'passive' state. In other words, _Enterprise_ was using its technology primarily to 'listen' for signs of other vessels, and only occasionally did the crew dare to utilize their own ship's sensors to 'see'. Eventually, the mission evolved into a anxiety-ridden waiting game that tested the nerve of everyone on the bridge.

Unlike the shuttle pod, there was no way to cloak the large starship. Therefore the course they charted followed a carefully pre-planned 'sprint and rest' philosophy. At the edge of the border, T'Pol had briefly used the ship's scanning devices to identify the nearest star systems. Unfortunately the first turned out to be a loner, lacking any orbiting planets or cluttered, easy-to-hide-in asteroid fields. So _Enterprise_ entered Tholian space and warped steadily toward the star, only to linger idly for several hours in its outer, solar atmosphere. A planet or asteroid to hide behind would have been much more ideal given their situation, but unfortunately there was precious little other than the blazing golden light from the G-Type star. Accepting the situation as it was presented to him, Archer and crew simply moved their starship as close to the solar radiation as possible.

They kept a careful watch on the hull temperature throughout their stay, until T'Pol was certain that no unexpected Tholian vessels lay in wait for them. A nod from Archer spurred her to briefly activate the main sensors so that the Vulcan could pinpoint and confirm coordinates for the next closest system along their path inward toward the Tholian home world. Once she located a new target, Travis Mayweather took them back to warp and the next leg of their cosmic 'sprint' began. While in-flight the sensors were returned to their random, five minute detection pulse. The lonely void between stars was their weak point – the area of space where the intruding starship was most vulnerable to detection. However, as had been predicted by Data, the bridge crew soon discovered that the vast majority of Tholian military vessels had been ordered to abandon their normal patrol pattern.

Occasionally civilian merchant vessels crossed their path, but these were easily avoided, given their complete lack of sophisticated, long range detection technology. Currently, both Sisko and Janeway were standing behind Archer, and he cast them a wary glance. "How much farther did you say you extended our sensor range?" he asked. Sisko had mentioned the statistic earlier, but for some odd reason it had slipped his mind. _No_, the Captain decided silently. _Not for some odd reason. I can't remember because we're in a future century traveling through enemy territory, and the hair on the back of my neck is standing straight up as I wonder if we're gong to get caught with our hand in the cookie jar!_

"Relax Jonathan," said Janeway, smiling reassuredly. "Your sensors are pulsing outward once every five minutes. They're using a technique that requires significantly less power then usual and greatly extends their range. Trust me… we'll be able to spot any enemy ships long before they see us."

Business as usual prevailed for the next half hour, until T'Pol's back unexpectedly stiffened. Sooner or later, Janeway's prediction was destined to come true. "Sensors just detected a contact," she announced, turning toward them. "I'm reading one Tholian military vessel, on a course and speed in this general direction at a steady warp two."

Archer held up a cautious hand. "Travis, full stop," he ordered briskly.

"Aye sir."

The star shine on the forward viewscreen slowed to a crawl as _Enterprise_ dropped almost instantly to sub-light velocity. Working swiftly but efficiently, Mayweather used thrusters and brought the large starship as close to a zero forward velocity as was possible in the empty vacuum of space.

"T'Pol, can we reach the next star system before they get close enough to scan us?"

Her eyes glanced back downward, into the main sensor reader and the blue glow from its internal power system highlighted her fair skin. "Negative, Captain. In order to reach target number two, we would need to cut across the new contact's path at an angle of thirty degrees. That would bring us close enough to allow them to detect our presence." She rose back to her full height and thought for a moment. "The third and fourth star systems we identified earlier are still options. To reach one of them we would have to circle back a few parsecs, but – assuming the Tholians continue to maintain their present course – we would be able to do so easily while avoiding detection."

The Captain nodded in agreement. "That sounds like a plan to me," he concluded. "Which system contains the most planets and moons?"

As usual, T'Pol had memorized the necessary information. "Target number three has five planets with eight moons of varying sizes. Target four has nineteen planets with twenty-nine moons of assorted sizes, along with two separate asteroid belts orbiting the central star."

"Target four sounds nice and crowded," Archer decided. "Reverse course Mr. Mayweather, and take us there at maximum warp."

"Right away Captain."

_Enterprise_ banked sharply to starboard, reversing its course. Then the starship accelerated back to warp in a streaking blur of faster-than-light motion.

* * *

It took them a third of a day to properly retrace their steps and approach the newest choice for _Enterprise_'s next stop. Thankfully, this proved to be more than enough time for the primary, on-duty bridge crew to take a few hours off so that each of them could rest and regroup. Archer shared a short but tasty meal in his quarters with Trip and T'Pol. The three of them chatted briefly for awhile longer before he finally escorted them to the door and offered a polite "Good night." Sighing with mild fatigue as he watched them go, he turned to let the door slide shut and returned to his bed. There, the Captain plopped down on his mattress in search of a short nap.

Uttering a sharp bark in obvious gratitude for the continuing company and extended visit, Porthos leaped up next to his owner and curled up alongside Archer's left leg. The warmth from the animal's body was extremely comforting, and the Captain lay awake for several additional minutes as he tried to guess how much more sleep he was destined to lose throughout the next few days. If the early signs he had observed during the initial hours of their current mission were any indication, the road ahead would be paved with many challenging obstacles to overcome.

"_Jonathan, you _don't_ join Starfleet if you need your beauty rest_," his old friend A.G. Robinson had told him repeatedly during those seemingly long ago, early years in Starfleet. The Captain relaxed for a few more minutes, briefly allowing himself to remember those 'good old days' while listening to the comforting sound of Porthos breathing softly. Reaching down with his left hand, he scratched the dog fondly behind the ears. The small dog pressed closer, urging him to continue. A short while thereafter, dog and owner were both slumbering peacefully, content to share each other's company.

A little more than three hours later, Archer was wide awake and busy at his desk studying the ever growing star map of Tholian territory. T'Pol's sensors were feeding updates directly to the terminal in his quarters as _Enterprise_ progressed, and the Captain nodded with satisfaction as he glanced over the crowded star system that they had designated as target number four. Backtracking had been the least preferred option, but this new destination would offer them significantly more places to conceal the starship should the need arise. Between gas giants, rocky crusted, crater-filled planets, and debris-filled asteroid belts, system four seemed to offer a little bit of everything. Archer continued surveying the material they had gathered from a series of brief sensor pulses for over an hour. He was still looking over the twin moons surrounding one planet in particular when the Comm-system sparked to life.

"_Captain Archer, please report to the bridge_."

Archer cast a wistful eye in Porthos direction, where the beagle still lay softly napping on the edge of the bed. "Sorry my friend," he whispered softly, saving the current data file he was working with and shutting down the work station. "I'll stop by the galley later and see what Chef has on hand for a treat. You're going to be alone for awhile again my friend, and I'm truly sorry for that." He stood up and stretched his arms and legs to refresh his circulation, then left his quarters in search of the turbolift.

T'Pol was seated in the center seat when Archer arrived on the bridge, but she stood up as soon as the lift doors snapped open to admit him. "Our last scan identified a second Tholian military vessel in this region. It is flying a course paralleling the first ship we ran away from earlier." She watched the portable, linked scanner she held in her hand and waited patiently for the next pulse before continuing. "Both ships are now moving toward our position," she informed him. "I don't believe the Tholians were able to scan us before we adjusted our own heading. Since their patrol patterns have larger than usual gaps, they're simply trying to make it difficult for enemy ships to do what we are in fact doing."

Moving to stand beside her, the Captain glanced briefly toward the brightly streaming stars moving steadily past them on the viewscreen before settling his gaze on the Vulcan Science Officer. "They've still got pretty efficient security measures in place," he concluded. "We can't seem to shake them."

T'Pol left his side and relieved the crewman manning the sensor station. "The Tholians are relying on a standard patrol pattern typically utilized by military leaders who command a less than ideal fleet size. They are flying in wide, circular patterns that overlap randomly. As soon as they cross paths, each ship adjusts its Z-altitude – one of them increases it positively while the other dives negative. Eventually their new headings overlap with the search patterns of other vessels."

The Captain's next question was farily obvious. "How close are we to our next hiding spot?"

Mayweather glanced back at him tentatively. "We're still ten minutes away sir, current speed."

"And if we increase?" Due primarily to experience and years of service with his Science Officer, Archer guessed T'Pol's response before hearing it.

"Either we risk detection by increasing speed, or they will certainly catch us out in the open."

"I thought this was supposed to be _easy_," growled Archer, under his breath. "Travis, increase velocity as needed to get us inside of that system as soon as possible." Mentally, his self discipline and training automatically kicked in, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. "T'Pol… suggestions?"

She nodded confidently. "The seventh planet in the system has a small moon that we can hide behind. There are actually two of them, circling a large planet with no atmosphere. The planet does, however, have a higher than usual magnetic field, and its disturbance should help to mask our presence."

"Yes," the Captain said, nodding with approval. "I noticed that planet too. Travis, take us into that system as fast as our legs can carry us and put us in orbit around T'Pol's moon."

"Aye sir," nodded Mayweather with a determined smile. "Increasing speed to warp four point three." The velocity increase allowed them to reach the star system before the newest Tholian target could move within sensor range. Minutes later, Travis worked quickly to drop _Enterprise_ to sub-light velocity and they roared past the outer planet at a heady half impulse. "I'm going to shut down the impulse drive and switch to thrusters once we're close," he pointed out. "Otherwise we'll leave an even longer fuel trail than we already have. All they have to do is run across the ionized particles we're leaving behind – if they scan that, hiding won't help us."

Seating himself in the command chair, Archer chose not to respond for the moment. He simply waited as a small pinpoint of light grew steadily brighter on the main viewscreen… the glowing orange star at the center of the system. In the lower left corner, a gleaming, crescent curve of bright white light highlighted the planet that proved to be their intended destination. As promised, Lt. Mayweather powered down the impulse engines less than sixty seconds later and fired up the starship's maneuvering thrusters. Moving _Enterprise_ closer, he angled the large space vessel into the conical shadow cast by the planet hemisphere facing away from the star and then banked sharply away toward the smaller of the two moons.

"Archer to Tucker," the Captain stated briskly, after activating the Comm-link on the arm of his chair. "Shut down our warp engine and all other non-essential ship wide systems."

"_Aye Captain_," came the immediate response, from deep below in the starship's secondary engineering hull. "_I just hope those fellows out there don't figure out that we're here, because it's going to take at least a few minutes to get everything back on-line again_."

"We'll keep you advised."

Mayweather found himself agreeing with Tucker. "He's right sir. If we have to try and run away at impulse, _Enterprise_ will be a sitting duck," he warned cautiously.

There was no immediate response, since Archer was carefully watching the viewscreen and the growing image of the moon that was their intended destination. "There!" he said finally, pointing toward the area where the fully lit, cratered surface transitioned suddenly into darkness. "Put us right inside the shadow at minimum altitude, with _Enterprise_ between the moon and planet. The magnetic field in this area will interfere with even the most sophisticated sensor systems."

"Our own long range sensors have been off-line ever since we dropped out of warp," T'Pol noted firmly. "The last pulse showed that both enemy ships are still out there and continuing toward this system."

"Very well then," the Captain sighed. "Keep a careful watch, Subcommander."

Forced to sit quietly through most of the trip, Hoshi's nerves got the better of her. "Did it occur to any of you that the Tholians might check the most likely hiding places _first?_"

Archer smiled as T'Pol turned sharply in response. "I chose this location because it was _ninth_ on my list of hiding spots that I myself would approach first," the Vulcan emphasized calmly. "A meticulous search of this entire system by those two ships would take at least half a day. Meanwhile, other surrounding star systems remain open and undefended."

The seemingly endless waiting game began again, except this time they _knew_ the enemy was out there, stalking them. _Enterprise_ hung in a low orbit for nearly four hours, with Travis keeping the starship hovering barely a thousand meters above the small moon. It didn't take long after that before the first of the Tholian vessels entered the system. T'Pol was able to confirm its presence and track the ship's specific location consistently simply by 'listening' to the constantly changing location of the enemy's sensor emissions. The alien Captain kept his vessel on a course that was very predictable for such a cluttered system, darting to and fro between planets and moons as his crew worked steadily to scan as many blind spots as possible.

More minutes passed, and then another hour. It was a nerve-wracking experience for the entire bridge crew, since everyone was fully aware of their powered down, virtually helpless status. Still, everyone kept his or her morale up primarily by focusing on the still-active, blinking consoles in front of them. It was an entirely different story with Archer, who had no choice but to sit helplessly in his seat the entire time. For him, the wait rapidly became interminable and he promptly refocused his thoughts on the friendly dog still peacefully sleeping in his quarters, using the comforting image to calm his fraying nerves and maintain his strong, confident attitude.

"They must have detected traces of our presence," reported T'Pol uneasily while continuing to watch incoming telemetry. The hooded visor she normally looked down into was completely off-line, but other systems were meticulously recording all of the electromagnetic radiation in the immediate vicinity. "The second Tholian vessel has changed course and will enter this system in two minutes."

"Don't jump to any unnecessary conclusions," Archer mused thoughtfully, watching the dark line that separated night from day on the moon's surface while it rotated slowly below them. "Sudden, unexpected moves like that are one of the ways a predator flushes its prey." He smiled wryly. "They're relying on luck now… hoping that if they _have_ actually trapped someone is in here, they can use sudden movement to provoke a panic response."

"Well they're going to _get_ one if we have to stay here much longer," decided Travis with a distinct note of escalating anxiety in his usually restrained tone of voice. "The night side on the moon's surface is moving farther away from us, in the _opposite_ direction of the planet's magnetic field. Sooner or later we're going to have to move back out into the light and stay with the planet or continue hiding in the shadows." His gaze shifted uncomfortably toward T'Pol. "Either they'll be able to see us visually when we emerge from the darkness or we'll register instantly on their scanners once we drift far enough away from the planet's magnetic field."

"Neither option is desirable," commented Archer. "Are they close enough for visual?"

T'Pol shook her head negatively. "Technically the closest vessel could see us, but because _Enterprise_ is maintaining a 'passive' stand-by mode they don't know where to look. The second ship is spiraling away from us in a circular orbit near the outer planets. Currently their course is taking them farther and farther distant, toward the opposite side of the star."

"Fire up the thrusters Travis," decided Archer. "Pull us away from the moon and enter a standard orbit around the planet."

Working with her usual efficiency, T'Pol activated one of the exterior visual pickups and focused it directly on the closest ship. The viewscreen image shifted its display in response, and the familiar, sinister wedge-shape of a Tholian attack cruiser appeared. "If they knew where to point their optical imagers, their visual detection equipment would be able to zoom in on us too," she told them. "The planet's massive magnetic field continues to obscure us from their sensors."

"We're a sitting duck," Mayweather protested, feeling momentarily helpless.

"Hopefully an invisible one," stated T'Pol. She paused, rechecking the latest incoming data. "However, our current orbital velocity will put us on the edge of the planet's magnetic field again in nineteen minutes, twelve seconds."

"Relax Travis," Archer said reassuringly. "It's like hunting pheasants in your neighbor's shelter belts. They don't have a trained dog to flush us out in the open, so all we have to do is scrunch down in the bushes and let them walk right by."

Behind him the lift doors snapped open, admitting both Sisko and Janeway. The two of them took up position near the tall, spindly Ensign manning Malcolm Reed's tactical station. "Lt. Reed sends his regards," Sisko reported. "He reports that final preparations underway in the shuttle bay will be completed in less than two hours."

"Good," replied Archer curtly.

Folding her arms in front of her, Janeway smiled. "You forgot to tell us you were going to play hide and seek. We would have joined you sooner so that we could observe the entire show."

Archer smiled dryly. "This is not exactly a game we are _choosing_ to play Captain," he responded bluntly. "It was my understanding that this would be equivalent to a walk in the park."

"I don't remember promising you that," the confident, red-haired _Voyager_ Captain countered. Her eyes never left the viewscreen and its ominous view of the nearby Tholian ship. "We specified that enemy defenses on this side of their territory would be considerably _weaker_ than usual. But keep in mind… the Tholians always maintain a most careful watch over anything that they perceive to be _theirs_."

The waiting game resumed, but for a much briefer duration this time. Everyone on the bridge stood or sat silently waiting, their eyes shifting from time to time toward the main viewscreen. On it, an image of the nearby Tholian cruiser continued its steady patrol through the crowded star system. It held its course for another six minutes and then suddenly banked away from them. Raising an eyebrow of surprise, T'Pol returned her attention to the passive sensors locked onto the emissions steadily radiating outward from the pair of enemy ships. "Both ships have adjusted course to leave," she announced, causing everyone around her to breathe a heavy sigh of relief. "They're moving on."

Archer let the news sink in for a moment, before smiling wryly at Lt. Mayweather. "I never thought I'd hear myself say this Travis," he began. "But I _am_ saying it. Wait until the Tholian ships pass maximum sensor range, and then set a course toward target system number seven." He shook his head, dismayed by his next words. "Take us deeper into Tholian space."

* * *

Delta Quadrant, February 25, 2154, Aboard a Borg Scout Sphere

* * *

Dr. Tolian Soran harrumphed confidently as he materialized on board the Borg sphere. Glancing around briefly, he trotted casually through a dark corridor leading into one of the regeneration chambers. Stretching ahead seemingly endlessly on both sides were rows of regeneration chambers, each burning with a wicked, crackling green glow from ovals at their peek. Inside most of them, temporarily idle drones stood ready, renewing themselves for later duty assignments. Having never before stepped foot aboard one of the enemy vessels – not even during the years leading up to the point where the Sentinel duplicated him – the Doctor took a moment to inspect the crude, blocky look of what was actually the complex interior of a very sophisticated starship. What they lacked in bright light and aesthetics, the Borg definitely made up for with powerful technology. _Although_, Soran thought bitterly to himself, _everything they possessed had at some point been stolen from someone else_.

_Even their crews were totally comprised of formerly free people from thousands of different species._

Soran sneered with disgust as he continued moving forward, as odd flashes of pulsating white light – much like the flash bulbs from a camera – temporarily blinded him. Everywhere he looked, there were odd green glowing things and pieces of technology connected to the walls and floor – objects that were thrumming deeply while routing large quantities of energy to various locations throughout the ship. Unlike most space going vessels, the vast majority of these systems were unguarded _and_ completely lacking in protective shielding. The Doctor took note of this, his scientific experience instantly divining the reason behind the unusual design.

_The Borg had absolutely no need to waste valuable resources protecting dangerous systems from drones who already knew what – and more specifically what_ _NOT_ _– to touch_.

A delightful smile crossed the Doctor's scarred face as he briefly considered revising his plan. If he were to disrupt the entire Borg subspace communications grid, billions of Borg crew members spanning the galaxy would all suddenly begin to electrocute themselves or disintegrate completely against unshielded power taps and other dangerous equipment. Confused and separated from their group mind, they would be unable to maintain even simple life support systems – all of them would eventually die. It was an urge that held his attention for a moment, but no longer than that…

He remembered grimly that these very same drones were only obeying orders that were fed to them from a central Collective. Just by simply continuing to _exist_ after assimilation, there were many who would argue that these former members of other races had already undergone an endless, horrendous nightmare greater than almost anything else imaginable. Despite the burning cruel streak he had developed for the Borg in general over the passing decades, Soran happened to be one of those few people who truly felt sorry for the individual drones. No matter what happened

"_You_ are not my enemy," he stated flatly while staring at one of the motionless drones, still regenerating in its chamber. "You are _not_ the enemy that I seek to destroy, but you _do_ hold the answers I need."

Moving closer, Soran opened a small, black leather kit that he had brought along with him. It was filled with intricate, precision-designed tools. He removed several of them and began carefully making adjustments to a complex circuit pathway located along the lower neckline of the idle drone. There was a loud pop, followed by a series of 'snapping' sounds and a brief flash of golden light as power running through the Borg's cybernetic electrical systems shut down. Instantly the drone collapsed toward the floor, but the Doctor was ready and leaned his right shoulder under its left arm. He caught the alien firmly and held it partially upright for a moment longer, then gently lowered the motionless body the rest of the way to the deck plating.

Next, the Doctor retrieved a portable surgical laser and used it to remove the protective, metal casing that protected additional vulnerable circuitry in the same area he had initially touched. Working swiftly but efficiently, Soran deactivated the Borg's self destruct mechanism, burning it to ash with a quick, powerful pulse from the laser tool. Then he began searching the defenseless drone's body meticulously, looking for data storage nodes that would contain the tactical information he so desperately coveted. Ishiik had shown him basic drone schematics downloaded from conventional Preserver archives, but he soon discovered that most of the critical details he needed most were missing. Desperate for additional information, he had been forced to come up with a viable alternative.

He couldn't risk using his RI-CAD headset's link with the subspace network, so Soran had instead chosen to look for another lone, Borg scout vessel. He was not yet prepared to run into the _Relativity_ again, and he knew that they would almost certainly locate him if he made even casual use of the headset's interface with the network. The sheer irony of the situation irritated him considerably… at virtually any point in the history of the universe _before_ Frank Roberts and Starfleet joined up with the Preservers, Soran would have been able to retrieve the information he needed almost instantaneously. The strict discipline emphasized by Starfleet's teachings and the non-stop optimism of its officers had always aggravated him to begin with.

_Now, once again, the mere thought of Starfleet infuriated him._

It took him a few minutes to locate several data nodes, tucked neatly along the drone's ribs on its right side. Part of the equipment emerged from the flesh, as this was typical of most Borg implants. The Doctor didn't bother to check how much of the ribcage had been removed – that particularly ghoulish information was not what he was looking for. As with the other components, he had to use the laser tool to remove a protective metallic cover. Then he simply plucked out the data storage devices, one by one, until he had retrieved them all. There were four of them, and Soran continued to work quickly as he connected the first of the nodes to a portable scanner he had brought with him from the _Thraex_.

Searching through the drone's personal data archive, the Doctor quickly discovered that most of the information now available to him was pretty routine and extremely uninteresting. Ship operations, deflector shield controls, power grid transfer relays, recently visited planetary systems… the vast majority of it was basic telemetry downloaded directly from the central Collective and therefore very valuable to the drone. For Soran's taste, however, the discovery that he had not in fact found what he had hoped to learn irritated him only slightly. _I already know you're receiving instructions from a central, group consciousness_, he thought silently. _But where exactly IS that central Collective located?_

As usual, the Doctor had planned ahead and was ready with a backup plan. He glanced at the inert drone, whose entire right side was now exposed. To most the scene would have been quite grisly, but not to Soran. He was not at all surprised by the complete lack of blood – assimilated drones would be incapable of working in the open vaccum of space, which they often did, if they retained their normal, humanoid circulatory system. An ember of curiosity burned deep within his mind, and he wondered briefly what sort of substitute fluid the Borg had used as a replacement. In the end, his primary objective drove him to ignore such trivial details and focus completely on the task at hand.

He replaced the laser cutter in its carrying case and selected a more sophisticated, complex device. Activating it, he held this new apparatus above the motionless body for several seconds, allowing its electronic whir and blinking lights to draw attention to his presence in the corridor. A full minute passed and then another two. Finally, Soran sighed heavily and replaced the instrument alongside the laser tool. Then he retrieved a third device, this one highly advanced and even more intricate. Again he activated the tool he was holding and held it firmly above the prone body of the deactivated drone. This time, his patience and persistence was almost instantly rewarded.

"_RELEVANT TECHNOLOGY DETECTED IN CORRIDOR J-117…_"

The multiple voices comprising the Borg group consciousness crackled out of the small speaker on Soran's portable scanner. He had preprogrammed the handheld device to eavesdrop on anything in the Collective's subspace communications that specifically focused on his presence. _It works!_ he thought triumphantly to himself, only to flinch in shock as the deactivated drone's left hand suddenly reached up and firmly grabbed his right forearm. The strength of the Borg was unbelievable, and its tight grip on the Doctor actually caused him physical pain. Astonishingly, even though all of its electrical systems still showed on the scanner as inactive, the drone sat up normally and looked directly toward Soran.

"Interesting," mused the Doctor with a dark chuckle. "Even if your own internal power systems are completely off-line, the Collective can _still_ power you wirelessly. I'm learning _much_ today."

"_RELEVANT TECHNOLOGY DETECTED… ASSIMILATE NEW TECHNOLOGY IMMEDIATELY._"

The drone extended its right hand, and a pair of black assimilation tubules located along the top of its knuckles flicked outward like the tongue of a snake and pierced the Doctor's neck. Then, its new order completed, the Borg simply sat there waiting for additional instructions. Several heart-pounding minutes passed and nothing happened. After the wait neared five full minutes, Soran started laughing hysterically. "You _can't_ assimilate _ME!_" he thundered jubilantly, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Why don't you try again, little drone? Perhaps you simply didn't inject enough of your _infamous_ nanoprobes."

"_ASSIMILATE NEW TECHNOLOGY IMMEDIATELY._"

The Collective's directive was even more emphatic this time, and the drone promptly responded by extending its assimilation tubules again. This time it injected them into the front of his chest, and again the Doctor laughed in pure defiance. "Keep trying," he suggested, watching and listening to the rapidly changing readings on the portable scanner. Very few throughout history had ever succeeded at what Soran was attempting. He was quite literally _watching_ the Borg analyze and adapt to his presence, and surviving the process so that he could talk about the experience with others.

"_ASSIMILATION NOT POSSIBLE… PRIORITY TARGET IS AN ISOMORPHIC PROJECTION._"

"Now you're starting to catch on," grinned Soran. "I'm _very_ curious to know… what's next?"

"_BEGIN SCANS FOR CLOAKED VESSELS HIDING NEARBY. CALCULATE COUNTERMEASURE PARAMETERS NECESSARY TO TERMINATE TARGET'S ABILITY TO EAVESROP ON OUR FREQUENCIES AND ISOLATE THE PROJECTION BEFORE IT POSES A DANGER TO SPHERE 820. ONCE TARGET'S VESSEL HAS BEEN LOCATED…_"

The combined sound of the voices from the small scanner's speaker abruptly turned into a sudden crackle of static and then degraded into a prolonged hiss of electronic background noise. Nodding with admiration, the Doctor shut off the device and then smiled as it simply vanished along with his tool kit. "It would seem that the Borg's infamous reputation for being very, very good at adapting to the varying, unexpected situations they're presented with remains intact," he acknowledged with a lip curling smile. Still sitting safely in a chair aboard the nearby, cloaked _Thraex_, Soran used his RI-CAD interface to increase the physical strength of his isomorphic projection by a factor of ten.

The drone he had earlier dissected still held his right arm firmly, so the Doctor stood up quickly and yanked sharply upward. The increased strength of his projection allowed him to lift the drone completely off the floor. The right hold on his isomorphic arm released its grip somewhere between the time it was in the air flying over his head but well before it slammed violently into the opposite corridor wall. Then – its implants and devices still whirring and buzzing with frantic activity – the drone dropped once again to the deck plating. Seconds later all signs of life and residual electronic activity slowed to a complete halt. Judging by the grotesque angle of the Borg's head as compared to its body, Soran decided that the drone would never again take orders from the Collective.

"A mercy killing, if ever there was one," he decided sullenly.

By no means was the fight over. Additional drones that had previously remained inactive during the Doctor's efforts to locate information suddenly came to life, walking out of their regeneration chambers on both sides of him. Turning toward him, they moved steadily forward like determined, mechanized zombies. Although he could no longer 'hear' their collective voice, it was perfectly clear to Soran that the Borg intended to carry out the previous order… confront and isolate the projection of his body before it could do additional harm to the vessel or its crew. _Fortunately I planned ahead for this too_, a soft voice in his mind chuckled with absolutely no hint of remorse. _You pathetic creatures WILL give me what I'm after before I retract my presence from this ship_.

Two of the dark shadows along the corridor wall unexpectedly moved, detaching themselves from their concealed locations and stepping out into the open. Ishiik and another Krell had transported over to the enemy sphere shortly after Soran initiated his projection. Knowing that the Borg would completely ignore both Soran and other intruders until they became a nuisance, the Doctor had chosen to take full advantage of the Collective's arrogance. The Krell were perfect for this assignment – their bodies gave off no detectable infra-red heat or life signs, and the unique nature of their species was completely impervious to the assimilation process. Tall and difficult to see in the low, constantly shifting lighting, Ishiik moved to Soran's right while his ghostly companion took up position on the Doctor's left.

Both Krell had brought with them portable force-field generators. Each of them activated the devices, snapping protective force fields into place between their small away team and the approaching Borg on both sides of the corridor. The first drones to reach the barriers on either side of Soran clawed at the shimmering green energy, fully intending to adapt to its parameters and push their way through. The Borg were experts at this technique, but on this occasion their proficiency at breaching enemy defenses proved to be totally ineffective. The Doctor laughed with genuine amusement as he watched additional drones throw themselves futilely against the barriers. Even though portable, the generators wielded by Ishiik and his colleague were Omega-powered and thus impervious to any Borg attack. In fact, the total offensive firepower of the entire sphere could never hope to penetrate even one of the fields.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful," grinned Soran with a great deal of satisfaction. Sensing the nearby power of Omega attracted the Borg irresistibly toward it – dozens of drones had been ordered to enter the corridor from its opposite ends and were now taking turns attacking the protective force shields on both sides of Soran. He stepped forward, moving to his left until his face was just centimeters away from the translucent, shimmering energy barrier. The Doctor took great care not to touch the shield, though. At full power, even brief contact could be instantly deadly. Nonetheless, he ended up backing away slightly, since a tiny fraction of the energy was dissolving away as palpable heat capable of burning flesh. Even though he had chosen to project himself onto the Borg sphere, he was still capable of seeing, feeling, and hearing everything that the isomorphic copy experienced.

_Soran was relying entirely on a simple, preprogrammed set of safety protocols to keep him safe._

Showers of emerald sparks exploded off the other side with each Borg attack, and the powerful feedback severely damaged each of the attacking drones. Many of them vaporized instantly, while those who survived suffered from severe malfunctions, lying on the deck plating with thick gray smoke swirling upward from damaged systems and ruined flesh. Their implants continued to buzz and whir uncontrollably, driven to near ferocity by the shipboard Collective's relentless determination to reach Soran and his stabilized supply of Omega. Tasks normally attended to, such as repairing damaged drones, had instantly been dropped to a much lower priority. Judging by the damage suffered from the highly powered shielding, most of the injured Borg would probably not survive this encounter.

"Are you certain this will work?" wondered Ishiik, placing a cautioning hand on Soran's left shoulder and easing him back and away from the powerful force shield.

"I am absolutely _positive_," replied Soran confidently. He held out an isomorphic hand and his portable scanner appeared – teleported instantly back to his location via a link from the RI-CAD headset his real body was wearing aboard the _Thraex_. "The Borg constantly search for ways to locate or manufacture Omega… they _covet_ it in fact. What we've done here is present them with a puzzle that cannot be solved solely by the combined minds aboard this ship. The attacking drones need to reach us in order to capture our force field generators." He continued to laugh at the perplexing dilemma his simple plan presented a supposedly invincible enemy with. "Unfortunately, they cannot hope to defeat our defenses without first _possessing_ the Omega."

Once again powering up his tricorder, Soran tuned its highly sensitive communications to the subspace bandwidth governing the communications link that bound together the larger, overall Collective. Even in this era, the Borg's ability to 'hear' each other across vast distances was extremely impressive. In a way, it was eerily similar to the Preservers own hidden network of resources. The Borg's sophisticated technology had existed for centuries with the potential to dominate more than ninety percent of the Milky Way species. Their only limitation was that they couldn't be everywhere at once. That was just one of the reasons why the Doctor had planned _very_ carefully before implementing this particular idea.

"They can't break through. I wonder how long we have before they destroy the entire sphere to stop us…" commented Ishiik. He and his colleague stood ready with assault rifles just in case the impossible should happen. It didn't though… the Borg drones continued attacking the force field barriers unsuccessfully. Many of them had to pause now, just long enough to clear away the malfunctioning bodies of their fellow drones, before resuming their onslaught.

"Be patient," Soran responded slowly, watching the scanner's small screen carefully. "This sphere has located a chain of stabilized Omega molecules. A discovery of this nature will do one thing immediately – it will draw the full attention of the _Queen_ herself so that she can personally oversee whatever these cybernetic excuses for humanoids decide to do next."

Soran finally isolated the inter-ship relay signals that connected together the millions of minor Collectives, regardless of whether they were mobile ship-based groups or Borg serving on stationary planets and colonies. Use of this sophisticated network allowed a smaller Collective to connect with the expertise of any other, regardless of where they existed in the vast area comprising the Borg Empire. Working skillfully, the Doctor tagged his own unique signal to the sphere's outgoing and incoming transmissions. The technique was called 'piggybacking', a trick that Soran had learned while listening to one of Jean-Luc Picard's seemingly endless, long-winded stories during their time together while living in the distant Preserve future.

"Soon other enemy vessels will arrive," pointed out Ishiik with growing concern. "The longer we remain here, the more risk is involved. Eventually the Borg will learn to detect the _Thraex_ and thereby gain knowledge that will improve their knowledge base. This defeats our larger objective."

"I only need a few more seconds," Soran promised.

He watched the sphere's outgoing communications carefully, following _all_ of the hundreds of thousands of varying subspace pathways utilized as the ideas and suggestions from millions of drones were prioritized, summarized and then evaluated. For a normal humanoid mind, such an action would normally have been impossible. But Soran was making full use of his Remote Interface, Command Access Device – a Preserver RI-CAD headset that increased his mental capacity exponentially. As his brain emphasized the need for more resources to continue monitoring Borg communications, the resources of the _Thraex_'s resident artificial intelligence – its main computer – instantaneously provided everything he needed. He was limited only by its maximum computing capacity, a machine that was monstrously powerful… even by Borg standards.

"_Hurry!_" Ishiik urged persistently.

"_I've got it!_" announced Soran triumphantly less than three seconds later.

Working swiftly, the Doctor's mind accessed the RI-CAD and used it to transfer his projection, all of their equipment, and the two Krell back aboard the _Thraex_. The Preserver starship remained fully cloaked, invisible to both visual perception and even the most sophisticated Borg sensors. The Preserver starship vanished a mere ten seconds later, transporting itself very far away from the now fully active sphere. Borg sensors had been frantically searching the area for signs of another vessel, and their hunt continued long after the _Thraex_ had departed.

Soran was still standing in the center of the bridge. He had remained upright after using the projection to throw the drone that had initially grabbed his arm. Taking several deep breaths, he waited for the RI-CAD's hold on his consciousness to back down to a normal, stand-by level. Then he opened his eyes and smiled with extreme satisfaction.

"I have succeeded in isolating the location of the Queen and her central uni-complex. We have the target coordinates we came for!"

Ishiik, too was elated. "You know where she is?"

The Doctor laughed victoriously, and the malevolence within his voice was as dark as any Krell. "Roberts and Picard will be expecting us to save my home world… _my_ star system! They will almost certainly wait for us to show up there, but we won't do them that courtesy. Instead we will attack the very heart of the Borg Empire herself. We will annihilate the Queen in her precious uni-complex! Once she is gone, the rest of their Collective consciousness will fall completely apart."


	10. By Inferno's Light

_**Author's Notes: **Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! As you read through this latest chapter, it will become immediately obvious that not all is right. We already knew that based upon the future shown to T'Pol by Data during their mind meld. For the record, I would like to point out that - to my knowledge - there is NO violation of canon. Hopefully, as Agatha Christie's character Hercule Perot liked to point out, before this story concludes... ALL will be revealed!_

* * *

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**By Inferno's Light

* * *

**

_Enterprise_ NX-01, Inside Tholian Space, July 28, 2268

* * *

_Captain's Personal Log, July 28, 2268: As Captain of the first NX-Class starship, I have decided to record this temporary record of recent activities in case something goes wrong during our visit to the Tholian home world. A full mission briefing, along with all sensor telemetry logs and other official computer records, have been and will continue to be routed to the database attached to this recording. Hopefully, I will be able to delete everything upon our successful return to_ Enterprise_. At this point, I don't even know yet which era of Starfleet should be alerted to the presence of this data if the worst should come to pass. Our primary goal, after all, is to straighten out a timeline that is currently on course toward certain disaster… not jumble it further._

_Unfortunately, _Enterprise _has moved as close to our destination as is realistically possible. Currently the ship is concealed behind planet number sixteen, the outermost world in the Tholian star system. It is a cold, lonely world lacking even a trace of an atmosphere. For awhile, we had entertained high hopes of getting closer, but even the civilian merchant lanes have begun to fill up with heavily congested traffic. Moving our starship any farther inside this system would undoubtedly give away our presence here, so my command team is making final preparations to launch our modified shuttle pod. With some additional good luck, the rest of the trip will unfold as successfully as the first stage. After all, the crew and I are explorers and bold adventures are one of the primary reasons we left space dock. _

_The landing team for our upcoming mission will consist of myself, Commander Charles Tucker the 3rd, Subcommander T'Pol, Ensign Hoshi Sato, Lt. Travis Mayweather, Doctor Phlox, Katherine Janeway and Benjamin Sisko. Additionally, in case we should run into trouble on the surface of the planet, I am also assigning Major Jon Hayes from our MACO team to serve as our bodyguard. He continues to be the very capable commander of the _Enterprise_ marine detail, and has proven to be extremely valuable in a crunch. I really wish we had the opportunity to take the time to more thoroughly explore this strange new world, but the danger to us from its resident enemy is very real. With that in mind, my next decision, that of who to leave behind, has been made rather reluctantly_.

* * *

Standing in the shuttle bay with the rest of his assembled command crew, Jonathan Archer surveyed the eager faces of the small crowd before stepping forward and laying a gentle hand on the shoulder of his Tactical Officer. "I'm sorry Malcolm," he said with complete and utter sincerity. "I need someone with experience to stay behind and take care of _Enterprise_. We don't know what to expect once we set down, or even if the Tholians will be able to detect us. If they do, things will get messy pretty fast. If the worst should come to pass, I want someone that I _trust_ running to our rescue."

"Believe me… I fully understand sir," Reed stated in reply. "No one understands the obligations of duty, honor and country more than I do. The rest of us will keep _Enterprise_ safe. And if you do end up needing help – well, just shout for help as loudly as you can on subspace."

Archer smiled gratefully. "Good man." He slapped Reed's shoulder confidently before turning to the MACO standing next to the Lieutenant. "Are you ready Major Hayes?" he asked curiously.

The handsome, well-built marine nodded firmly. "I am." He glanced briefly inside the shuttle pod's open hatch – the exterior of which was now fully painted dark black. "You have _ten_ EVA suits… it would sure make me feel better if I could bring along Romero or Chang. My boys and girls have been getting pretty restless ever since we had to postpone rousting pirates."

"Not this time," Archer responded. "If something goes wrong, we may need that extra suit for spare parts. On _this_ planet and in _this_ system, I want to be ready for anything." He chuckled lightly. "Besides, between our equipment and an additional two passengers over maximum, I'm already in violation of Starfleet protocol."

"Understood," stated Hayes with his usual crisp professionalism. "If you'll excuse me then, I'll assist Commander Tucker with the remaining cargo."

"Most of it is oxygen," pointed out Archer. He shifted his gaze first to Reed and then over to Sisko. "What about our special package? Is that situation under control?"

Malcolm smiled thinly, displaying emotional control that was a trademark of his. Rarely did the Lieutenant open himself up to strong emotions, positive or negative. "Aye, sir. We've readied one of our photonic warheads and modified it according to the specifications provided by Captain Sisko. It's been encased in a standard, metallic shell casing coated with Captain Janeway's TWS4 compound and bolted to the top of the shuttle pod. I installed an internal, portable generator, so the anti-matter is fairly well shielded. As long as your ride doesn't get too bumpy, everything should be okay."

The Captain studied the container affixed to the top of the shuttle. "What happens when we reach our destination?" he asked curiously.

"Just climb up and remove the bolts. Two men in EVA suits will be able to carry it safely from there."

"Thanks Malcolm. You and your people have done a _fantastic_ job on short notice."

Dr. Phlox had been politely listening to the conversation. He sighed heavily upon discovering his suspicions were true – that what he suspected was indeed contained inside the metal-coated package. A healer by nature, the Doctor was more than a little astonished by the audacity of the group's obvious intentions. He cast a wary glance in the direction of Benjamin Sisko and Kathryn Janeway, two people he still considered to be relative strangers. "Do we _really_ need to plant a _bomb_ on that world?" he asked with more than a little skepticism. "Technically, our trespassing alone would constitute an act of war. A bomb will be the only excuse a race like the Tholians would need to initiate one."

"We'll be working in a remote, uninhabited area of the planet," countered Sisko tersely. "Last night, I briefed Captain Archer on everything we plan to do once we reach the surface. What we find there, we _destroy_ once we're finished with it. If the Tholians were ever to discover what lies hidden right under their crystalline noses, they would use such a find for military purposes. Given the uncertainty of this quadrant's future as things currently stand, that is a risk we _dare_ not take."

Pausing briefly to consider Sisko's statement, Archer nodded in full agreement. "Besides…" he added brusquely. "Don't forget Doctor – that other Federation starship is inside Tholian territory because our civilians are already being targeted. So if our objective is indeed to save our future, part of the mission _must_ include sending the Tholians a message that they too can be hit where it hurts." He gestured toward the shuttle's open hatch. "Now, then. _If_ everyone is satisfied that all questions have been answered…"

"I have one additional question." T'Pol emerged from inside the pod and stepped to one side, allowing Reed and Hayes to finish loading the remaining supplies. "In my opinion we have prepared ourselves for everything, with one notable exception."

Briefly Janeway sized the young, attractive Vulcan up. Aside from the short dark hair, T'Pol reminded her of another fiercely confident, youthful scientific expert she was accustomed to working with. The Subcommander was just as capable and experienced as Seven of Nine, and a welcome addition to any away mission. "What's bothering you Subcommander?" she asked with interest.

"The Tholian home world is the first planet in this system, the one nearest its star. Add to that fact the significant quantities of greenhouse gases in its atmosphere, and we will very likely be working in a super-heated environment once we land. I predict that we will find conditions much like those currently found on Venus in the Sol system." She pointed toward the open hatch next to her. "We've known that all along and prepared for almost everything. However, once we land, _how_ do we get out of the shuttle without allowing the planet's heat to destroy the vulnerable electronic systems inside?"

Tucker also walked out of the shuttle, and he folded his arms as doubt clouded his features. "I'd be interested to know the answer to that question too," he piped up. "You did plan for a ride _back_, right?"

Kathryn Janeway smiled with mild amusement and reached inside the edge of her left sleeve. She removed a carefully hidden, cylindrical device that looked a lot like an oversized, silver writing pen. "This is a portable 29th century tricorder containing an internal, short range site-to-site transporter," she informed them. "It has an internal power supply capable of safely moving up to two hundred people in groups of twenty. Since there are only nine of us participating in this mission, this will provide more than enough assistance to serve our needs."

The Commander's jaw dropped in shock, and he pointed an accusatory finger toward the red-haired _Voyager _Captain. "_You_ told me that Data didn't want to risk sending future technology back with you," he pointed out. "What _else_ have you lied to us about?"

"Trip." Archer's stern gaze quieted Tucker almost instantly. He knew that his Chief Engineer had a tendency to get emotional at times and normally cut him a reasonable amount of slack. Not so in this case, however. "If a Starfleet Captain chooses to withhold crucial information from you, then she has a perfect _right _to do so… regardless of which century she comes from."

Janeway remained unperturbed at the unexpected accusation. "Captain Sisko and I traveled back through _time_. That means you're on a need to know basis, Commander," she stressed crisply. "And even if we were from your century, on missions such as this one there will _always_ be secrets that – for one reason or another – must remain in the Captain's club until the very last minute."

Determined to overrule any remaining doubt, Archer waved toward the shuttle. "Our plan is a good one. Mission team, please board the shuttle and prepare for departure. Everyone else is dismissed."

"I can't believe we're actually _doing_ this," whispered Hoshi while she and Phlox lowered their heads just far enough to duck under the pod's open hatch. They boarded the shuttle together and took up positions at the rear of the main cabin, near a pair of large suitcases covered with the heat protective gel. Next to them sat an extra supply of oxygen tanks and a large synthesizer capable of manufacturing more. "We've even got a _bomb_ up top – one shot from a hand phaser will vaporize us."

"For the record, I can't believe we're doing this either," replied Phlox softly. The two of them assisted each other in putting on the helmets to their EVA suits.

"Do you regret being assigned to participate?" Sato studied his expression carefully.

"Are you kidding?" the Doctor replied with a gleeful chortle. "How many Denobulans will _ever_ have an opportunity to walk on the surface of the Tholian home world? I wouldn't miss this for anything!"

Hoshi opened a container of unused gel and carefully sealed the creases where the Doctor's helmet connected to his suit. Then she handed him the small canister and he returned the favor. Glancing around, they noticed that everyone else assigned to the mission team had already followed them on board the shuttle. Moving as far back as possible, they did their best to make room for the others. It was a crowded central cabin, especially with everyone putting the finishing touches on their EVA suits.

"The sealant should cure before we reach our destination," Archer called out. "If it doesn't, the heat on the surface will no doubt finish the job."

"Just so that heat doesn't finish _us_," growled Tucker somewhat cynically. He counted heads to insure that everyone who was supposed to be present had in fact boarded the small craft. Then he turned to his left, touching the hatch controls and sealing the shuttle pod. Despite his ongoing doubts, the Commander's demeanor was improving steadily at the prospect of setting foot on yet another unknown alien world. The sights to be seen on this occasion intrigued him unlike any other mission.

Sitting in the cockpit seat, the always cheerful Travis Mayweather accessed the helm and fired up the engines while completing the remaining preparations prior to take-off. As he did so, Archer carefully applied protective gel to the areas where Mayweather's helmet attached to his spacesuit. "Pre-flighting completed sir," the Lieutenant reported with a pleased smile.

Hovering just behind him, the Captain smiled boldly. "Then let's go," he suggested confidently.

Seconds later, the dark silhouette of shuttle pod one dropped out of the _Enterprise_ hangar bay. Its slick black-coated atmospheric wings unfolded, and the small vessel moved swiftly away from both the starship and the massive, crater-covered dead planet lurking behind it. Mayweather set a course directly toward the system's central star, and with very little fanfare the extremely perilous mission began.

_It was a historic moment to be sure, regardless of which century the journey took place in.

* * *

_

The first leg of the journey proved to be extremely challenging for Travis Mayweather. Relying solely on sensors to guide the small shuttle, he did his best to pilot the small craft without the use of the normally transparent cockpit window. "_I've flown solely on instruments before_," he commented somewhat anxiously, glancing back toward Archer. "_Admittedly though, most of those trips were in simulators and work pods back in my training days on the _Horizon."

Sticking close to Archer and the cockpit, Janeway overheard his comment. "_Stay in the lanes dedicated to merchant traffic_," she suggested, shifting uncomfortably in the tightly packed quarters. "_The shuttle's sensors have been 'dumbed down' and altered to emulate older, less sophisticated Tholian systems. If we should unexpectedly show up on Tholian scanners, we'll appear to be a lonely little shuttle looking for our freighter_."

Temporarily activating the lights on his helmet to insure that they still functioned properly, Tucker winked mischievously at Major Hayes. "_What if someone notices your tinkering and decides to come looking for us?_" His voice crackled with more than a little feedback on the open Comm-frequency, prompting him to immediately reach for the adjustment settings on the front of his suit.

"_Against the background of space, our black hull renders us almost completely invisible_," stated Janeway reassuringly. "_If anyone approaches us, all we have to do is power down and let them pass. Trust me, unless our avionics and sensors remain active, we won't show up on their sensors_."

"_I'm all for that!_" decided Travis firmly, glancing back at all the familiar faces crowded in behind him. "_I can't see them, so it's only fair that they can't see us_." His gaze returned toward the consoles in front of him, where everything surrounding them was electronically mapped out for him in meticulous detail. "_Believe it or not, this is actually getting easier_." On the main sensor grid, military ships were displayed in red, civilian vessels in blue, while asteroids and other nearby objects glowed with a dull, forest green. Mayweather was carefully steering toward green contacts, using them for cover, and avoiding red ones.

"_All that training is coming back to you now, isn't it?_" guessed the Captain.

Travis paused long enough to respond. "_My Dad used to tell us that flying is just like riding a bicycle_." He laughed with amusement. "_He never did tell us what a bicycle was, though_."

The Captain nodded with approval. "_My Dad taught me never to be afraid of the wind_." He smiled at the pleasant memory. "_Seriously. From your perspective, I take it that everything is proceeding well?_"

"_Absolutely_," Mayweather replied without hesitation, working steadily to keep the shuttle on course toward their eventual destination. "_We're passing the system's star now, moving toward the opposite side of the solar system_." He fell silent for a moment as he studied the scrolling sensor data and object maps in front of him. "_However, once we hit atmosphere this will turn into a whole new ball game. There's no telling what to expect in terms of temperature, not to mention wind sheer_."

"Expect _Venus-like conditions_." T'Pol was buried somewhere in the center of the shuttle, hidden between several other bodies. Even so, both Archer and Mayweather heard her clearly on the specially encrypted communications link they had created specifically for the mission. It was proven technology guaranteed to function even in the harshest of conditions.

"_I just never expected to see so much civilian traffic_," the Lieutenant admitted. "_Who would have guessed this star system would be filled with _this_ many ships?_"

"_Tholian merchants rely very heavily on trading with other species in order to support a fragile economy_," responded T'Pol informatively. "_As you might expect, industrial activity on their world has traditionally proved to be extremely challenging_."

"_Then why is their military so aggressive?_" wondered Travis. "_I'm no expert, but it's generally not a good idea to anger potential customers!_"

"_Perhaps this mission will provide answers to some of those mysteries_." Archer cast an amused glance toward the crowded cabin behind him. "_How is everything going back there?_" he asked curiously.

"_Whose idea was it to remove the chairs?_" The slightly frustrated voice on the Comm-link was obviously Hoshi's. "_These so-called _cushions_ Malcolm gave us to sit on feel like solid concrete, even through an EVA suit_."

"_Sorry Ensign_," Commander Tucker replied with a soft laugh. "_There wasn't room for extra people, cargo, _and_ chairs. Something had to go_."

"Travis _has a chair_," she quickly pointed out, refusing – for the moment – to let the subject rest.

Leaning against the starboard hull, Tucker shook his head at her persistence. "_The guy in charge of _landing_ us safely while facing adverse conditions gets to keep his seat_," the Commander grinned. "_That's an order directly from the Captain_."

Major Hayes was seated next to the Commander, and he chuckled lightly at the usual, casual banter back and forth. His gaze settled on Benjamin Sisko, who had contentedly seated himself next to Doctor Phlox. Sisko looked totally calm and at ease, waiting patiently while their shuttle slowly crossed the alien star system. "_Captain Sisko, you look like someone who has been on dangerous missions like this before_," the Major observed. "_Usually, only experienced professionals can control their fear and anxiety as easily as you do. I usually do pretty well myself, but even so I am feeling a bit restless_."

Sisko's gaze was piercing, even through the transparent faceplate on his helmet. "_Where I come from, combat missions occur on a regular basis_," he stated factually. "_I'm used to setting up camp and waiting for the inevitable… sometimes I wait a _long_ time before anything significant happens_."

Hayes chuckled. "_So you're telling me that _any_ future isn't perfect, even if we manage to avoid disaster_."

"_Some of Starfleet's darkest days occur in my era, along with many of our brightest_." He stared almost defiantly at Hayes, remembering. "_And unfortunately, my son ends up caught in the middle of it_."

"_You sound like you've been through a lot_," Hoshi stated suddenly, growing interested in their conversation. "_Where I come from, lots of people have been through really tough times. Every family suffers in wartime. I'm certain that your son will endure… that he will serve Starfleet with honor_."

Sisko laughed darkly. "_No, you misunderstand Ensign_," he continued. "_My son chose to be a _reporter, _and once war breaks out in my time he makes a headstrong decision to _remain_ in enemy territory so that he can more fully cover the daily events. He lives and works among some of the _worst_ people I have ever met, risking everything in pursuit of his journalism_." He held up his space-suited arms helplessly. "_He always wanted a big news story, and once war broke out he certainly _got_ one_."

"_Do your enemies _know_ that he is your son?_" Sato asked, sucking in her breath. "_Wouldn't they take him prisoner and try to use him as a hostage against you?_"

"_One would certainly think so_," Sisko mused. "_Unfortunately the enemy that we're fighting has a very nasty cruel streak running through them. I've never seen its like. They've used every dirty trick in the book at one time or another, but for some unknown reason they've left my son alone_." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "_I suppose that they like the idea of my constantly knowing that he's in danger… that they could kill him any time they want to and that I bear the emotional burden every day. Jake was certainly old enough to make his own decisions, but I'd still like to give him one last spanking for doing that to me_."

"_If you think _your_ family life is complicated, try mine_," interjected Phlox. "_I have _three_ wives – each with three husbands of their own – resulting in a grand total of 720 relationships, 42 of which offer romantic possibilities. There are 31 children in my extended family, five of which I am proud to say are mine_." He held up the fingers on his right hand for emphasis. "_Three boys and two girls… along with _all_ the complications and challenges that come with an extended family_."

Sisko's expression softened and he took a moment to study the Doctor more closely. "_I'm not familiar with your species_," he pointed out. "_In my century, the Federation is extremely diverse and I serve on a remote space station_."

"_I'm from a planet called Denobula_," Phlox stated with his usual wide smile, "_And a proud member of the Interspecies Medical Exchange_."

"_Aha_," replied the Deep Space Nine Captain. "_Now _that _explains an awful lot_."

* * *

Even though the Comm-link remained open, the conversation died down after awhile. During the prolonged, quieter period, everyone's mood seemed to match Sisko's. The various members of the mission team sat quietly, alone with their thoughts, contemplating the danger and wonders waiting for them. After another half hour, shuttle pod one finally emerged from a space lane dedicated specifically to civilian traffic and approached the innermost planet.

Travis immediately redirected the sensors, focusing them almost entirely on the strange new world rotating below them. "_This is interesting_," he called out suddenly, watching as one of the screens displayed the planet in greater detail. Even though he was looking at a three-dimensionally generated sensor creation, the world below still boasted more oddities than anything he had previously seen.

Archer stirred instantly, rising from his relaxed position on one of the cushions to stand protectively over the Lieutenant. "_What have you got?_" he asked curiously.

"_We're on final approach_," said Mayweather informatively. "_So if you guys have a specific destination in mind, _now_ would be the time to tell me. There's a lot to choose from down there_."

Kathryn Janeway tapped Archer on the shoulder. "_May I?_" she asked politely.

"_Of course_," Archer replied, shifting to one side so that she too could survey Mayweather's telemetry.

"_Obviously there are no oceans_," pointed out Janeway. "_The planet is essentially one big continent with considerable volcanic activity and thousands of various sized fault lines. We're looking for a crescent-shaped line of mountains near the equator – specifically a smaller group of them near the larger range's southern tip_." She ignored the atmospheric data scrolling by on the main screen and studied the slowly rotating, three dimensional map of the planet. "_The planet boasts dozens of enormous mountain ranges, but there should only be _one_ that curves where it crosses the equator_."

"_I think I found it_," stated Travis excitedly, pointing toward a specific point on the console screen. With the fingers on his left hand he tapped several keys and the site immediately enlarged, providing them with a clearer view of the topography. "_It's definitely a mountain range with a crescent curve, and there are _several_ smaller groups along the southern tip_." The shuttle unexpectedly heaved turbulently back and forth for several seconds before stabilizing.

"_Hey!_" Tucker snapped with mild annoyance from behind them. "_Quit rocking the boat Travis?_"

"_It's _not_ me_," the Lieutenant insisted with light laughter. "_We're entering the atmosphere, and – _surprise!_ There are Venus-like conditions to be found here_." He continued analyzing the incoming data. "_Gravity is only three-fourths of Earth standard… that will make things easier_."

On the computer map, Archer examined the narrowing rows of jagged, pointy peaks with fascination. "_Those aren't mountains_," he observed casually. "_They look like giant, sharpened dragon's teeth_."

"_Do any of them resemble a hand?_" asked Janeway. She too was watching closely while the shuttle pod continued to close in on the target hemisphere. "_According to ancient Tholian legend, the site we're looking for is sacred… a very small mountain range that resembles a giant hand. Supposedly it's one of their ancient gods clawing his way out of the ground, turned to stone somewhere along the way_."

Once again Travis used the keyboard to enlarge a specific area. Turning to meet Janeway's gaze, he smiled dryly. "_That depends… do Tholians have _six_ or _seven_ fingers?_"

"_That's it_," said Janeway emphatically, also noticing the odd arrangement of spiked peaks. "_Set us down as close as you can to the southernmost 'finger'_." She studied the cockpit controls carefully. "_Do you have thermal imaging sensors, Lieutenant?_"

"_Of course_." Mayweather activated a subconsole and briefly showed her how to operate it. "_What exactly are we looking for?_" he wondered enthusiastically.

"_A single cold spot… one small drop surrounded by an ocean of flame_," she replied crisply, moving in beside him to more easily access the sensor controls. "_I'll explain further once we're safely down on the planet's surface_."

The surrounding hull began vibrating intermittently as Travis moved the shuttle gradually lower into the planet's thick atmosphere. "_Your protective sealant on the outer hull is working exactly as promised_," he commented idly. "_Even at this altitude, it's over 425 degrees Celsius out there. However, you should be advised that our internal cabin temperature is 45 degrees and rising quickly_."

"_The life support units in our EVA suits will compensate for that_," Archer reassured him.

The sensor console in front of Janeway beeped loudly for attention. "_Believe it or not, I've found our target_," the _Voyager_ Captain noted with a pleased smile. "_Please set us down near _this _position_."

Mayweather studied the coordinates carefully. "_Aye sir_," he nodded confidently. "_I hope you have that tricorder of yours ready, because this isn't going to take long_."

"_Relax Lieutenant. It's sealed inside the index finger of my left glove_," Janeway replied, holding up her forearm for emphasis.

* * *

Shuttle Pod One, Surface of the Tholian Home World, July 28, 2268

* * *

Once they were safely on the surface, it took only minutes to clear cushions and other non-essential items away from the shuttle's main cabin area. Commander Tucker and Major Hayes stacked them neatly in rows of three along the back wall while Mayweather cautiously powered down all of the shuttle's primary systems. Tucker slid a pair of gel-coated suitcases along the floor, moving them into the midst of the passengers. "_Everyone be certain to refill your oxygen before departure_," he cautioned everyone. "_We can't take the synthesizer with us, only spare tanks_."

"_We're all going to have to lean in fairly close together_," Janeway cautioned them. "_My site-to-site transporter will beam everything within its range outside, directly to the destination coordinates that I've chosen. I've got my index finger on two buttons. The top one transports us outside, and the other one activates a jamming field that will shield our life signs from Tholian sensors_."

"_How do we get back aboard?_" wondered Hayes curiously, "_Unless, of course, you can find a way to reprogram your device while it's inside your glove_."

"_The transporter subroutine has a 'toggle' feature_," she responded. "_Once we get back, all I have to do is press the same button and the device will reverse the first transport. That's why it will be even more important to form as tight a group as possible on the return trip. We _all_ have to fit inside this cramped, enclosed space upon materialization. Otherwise the program's safety feature will prevent it from activating until we reassemble properly_."

Archer picked up one of the large, gel-covered suitcases. "Let's get on with this," he decided sternly. "There's no telling whether or not we were scanned on the way down."

Everyone moved together, huddling into a tight group as Janeway proceeded to activate her tricorder. The nine visitors slowly vanished in a whirling haze of azure transporter energy…

* * *

…_only to reappear seconds later, seemingly in the center of hell itself._

The wind pressed against them in sudden gusts that made it extremely difficult to stand comfortably. A soft, bluish-tinged hazy fog surrounded them – a tremendous heat so intense that there were only occasional reds or oranges to be seen. On the horizon before them and stretching as far as the eye could see, hundreds of jagged, pointy mountains groped sky high in a gently curving line. The surrounding atmosphere was so dense and concentrated that only the lower half of the mountains remained visible. Above a few thousand meters they gradually faded away, vanishing in the pervasive, glowing blue mist that hung around them. Mayweather knew full well from the shuttle's earlier sensor scans that virtually all of them eventually ended in a sharp peak.

A growing orange glow caught Tucker's attention and he glanced down at his boots just in time to see one of the shuttle's cushions disintegrate. The intense heat consumed it almost instantly, before the insistent wind could carry it away. "_I thought we had all of those stacked. Who left their cushion inside the transport circle?_" he asked with annoyance.

"_I did_," Ensign Sato responded almost instantly. "_I'd rather sit on the floor all the way back than ride on that thing. Good riddance_."

"_Hoshi!_" Tucker protested, turning his helmet toward her with obvious frustration.

She shrugged her shoulders in response, outright daring him to rebuke her further. "_It was_ my _cushion_," she boldly pointed out to him. "_And I wanted to watch it burn on this blasted planet_."

Not so surprisingly, their voices seemed very distant in Archer's mind. Fascinated by his unprecedented vantage point and a chance to observe the alien scenery, he glanced carefully first one way and then the other. The hot bluish mist was obviously a direct result of the super-heated, elementary particles in the surrounding atmosphere, and its foggy nature continually shifted and intensified with the strong gusts of wind. Sometimes the Captain had to tighten his knees simply to hold his position, but then the currents of air would die down to a gentle breeze for a few seconds, allowing him to stand relatively normally.

High and to the left of the seemingly endless mountain range, a large, basketball-sized red orb hung in the sky… the sun that consistently maintained the hemisphere-wide firestorm. "_I wonder what it's like on the night side_," he wondered softly in a subdued tone of voice.

Still curious, the Captain turned around and surveyed the area behind the shuttle. He came to an abrupt stop, completely astonished, and put a gloved hand on Tucker's shoulder. "_I don't want to hear any complaints on the way back_," the Commander told Sato, using his best lecture tone. "_If your delicate bottom gets sore, then you'll just have to stand up and stretch for awhile_."

"_Trip_," the Captain said softly, even though the argument continued. "_Trip!_" he called out again, much louder this time. He finally caught their attention and, one by one, the other members of the mission team turned their attention toward the opposite horizon.

"_Now isn't_ that _something to write home about_," Tucker decided, staring in wonder.

The blistering mist thickened and thinned in places, completely obscuring sights both far and near. Even fellow members of the away team had difficulty spotting each other at times, despite the fact that they had not spread out far and were all standing within five or six meters of each other. But during the short periods when the skyline cleared briefly, they could see the tall spires of a magnificent crystalline city on the distant, southern horizon. Without the shuttle's sensors or even hand-held scanners, there was no way to tell what the city was constructed from or any way to determine just how it had been manufactured. All they could see was a breathtaking, alien metropolis that was easily dozens of kilometers in length. There were no sharp angles, only a twisting, curving architecture comprised of orange and reddish crystal that was completely unlike anything they had ever seen.

"_No one said stated that we were going to land near a major city_," pointed out Major Hayes with obvious concern, watching dark metal pods and shuttles land and depart. "_With respect, Captain, we should have taken more precautions_."

"_Relax Major_," replied Sisko firmly. "_This place is _sacred_ to the Tholians – none of them would dare to approach it. Their concerns are all based on a legend that is centuries old. That is what has kept them from discovering this place… from finding what is hidden here on their _own_ world_."

"_What about the warhead?_" asked Archer with concern. "_Are we too close?_"

Sisko shook his head. "_I measured the anti-matter myself. We pose no danger to living beings, but the blast will scare the whiskers off of them and reveal their vulnerability to a counter-attack_."

Tucker too was captivated by the spiraling arcs comprising the alien architecture, but he also took note of the ships constantly rising and descending from orbit. "_They can build entire cities out of heat resistant crystal, just like their bodies_," he noted curiously. "_But they still need metal alloys to contain this type of atmosphere in their space craft. I would love a chance to study that place… and their ships_."

"_Not possible_," insisted Sisko. "_It would be better if we focused on our immediate priorities_."

"_I've seen this place before_," stated Archer with fascination, as though he didn't hear Sisko. "_It was in a vision, during the time we were bringing _Enterprise_ into the future… this is the_ same _city!_"

Janeway nodded in agreement, moving to stand beside the _Enterprise_ Captain. "_Visions like yours are common while moving through time via a slingshot maneuver_," she informed him. "_A person's experiences, past and present, tend to overlap. That's one of the reasons why it can be difficult to remain conscious during the trip – the mental processes in a humanoid mind are easily overwhelmed_." She paused briefly to let him study the domed buildings and sharply pointed skyscrapers for awhile longer. Then, her infamous pragmatism once again got the better of her. "_Captain Sisko is right_," she continued after a time. "_We had better get moving_."

"_Agreed_." Archer returned his attention to the shuttle. "_Let's begin by unhooking our cargo and bringing it down to the surface_," he suggested.

"_You've got one of the supply cases, sir_," responded Hayes with a smile. "_Commander Tucker and I can handle that_." He glanced toward Tucker and the two of them nodded in unison.

Reaching down, Hayes clasped his hands tightly together and allowed the Commander to place his left boot firmly in the center of his grasp. Then he heaved just hard enough to allow Tucker to catch a curved metal handhold near the edge of the pod's dorsal hull. Bending over slightly, the Major inhaled and stiffened his body while Tucker stepped briefly onto his shoulder in order to get the boost needed to make it the rest of the way. Then he removed a crowbar coated with the protective gel from a hook on his belt and slapped it into the Commander's outstretched, gloved hand.

"_This won't take long Captain_," the Commander promised, his electronically enhanced voice distorting slightly with a sudden, simultaneous gust of fierce wind. "_The bolts are designed to release easily once…_" his voice trailed off as he raised the crowbar with a gloved hand. A halo of reddish-orange fire surrounded them, temporarily capturing his gaze in a wondrous rapture. Wherever the mist touched the suit's protective coating, it deflected away slightly cooler.

"_Trip!_" Archer called, rising to his tiptoes in an attempt to spot the engineer atop the shuttle. "_What's wrong? Do you need any help up there?_"

The urgency in the Captain's voice tugged Tucker's attention back to reality. "_Nothing… nothing is wrong_," he decided, trying his best to reassure everyone. "_I just didn't expect to see my space suit glowing, that's all. It's a bit unsettling, to say the least_."

Working swiftly, he dug the thin edge of the crowbar under the first bolt firmly holding the torpedo casing to the cargo frame. The extra large fastener came loose instantly, disintegrating in the planet's extreme heat. Most of the gel on the crowbar's edge also tore away from the sharp metal it touched, and the Commander barely got the second bolt removed before the fire followed the crowbar's length one third of the way up, melting the metal away completely.

"_How is it going up there?_" Archer called from below. "_Do you need assistance?_"

Frustrated, Tucker stared at the other dull end before tossing away the remnants of the now useless tool. He leaned out as far as he dared from the shuttle's upper hull. "_I _need_ another tool!_" he stated brusquely, talking louder than usual without even realizing it. From his higher position on top of the pod, the fierce wind gusts pounded relentlessly against his helmet with an eerie hiss. His legs were hooked firmly in the metal cargo frame, so he considered himself safe for the moment. "_Pass me another crowbar_."

Below he saw Hayes – also surrounded in a fiery glow – throw up both hands with frustration. "_You took mine!_" the Major reminded him. "_Don't _you_ have the other one?_"

The Commander glanced down toward his own belt and smiled dryly. "_Oh yeah. Okay… I do have the other one…_" he admitted, nodding with sudden understanding. "_I knew that… really I did_." Working quickly but safely, he attempted to remove the tool attached to his own belt. _These gloves are terrible!_ he thought to himself with growing frustration. _This stupid gel covering them makes it even more difficult…_ Briefly Tucker's thoughts returned to the first tool, and how easily it had become severely damaged once the protective coating was gone. Mentally pushing his anger aside he tried again, this time successfully unhooking the crowbar from his belt despite the awkwardness of the gloves.

Using the benefit of experience, he managed to get three of the four remaining bolts detached before the leading edge of the second tool disintegrated. "_Does anybody have another crowbar?_" he asked tentatively, holding the glowing remains of the second in his right hand.

"_No!_" Archer responded, mild concern beginning to crawl across his expression. "_We only brought TWO. Trip, do you want some help?_" he repeated, more insistently this time. The rest of them were forced to stand by helplessly while Tucker continued to work on top of the shuttle. "_Major, check if he needs assistance_." Putting down the suitcase he was holding, Archer interlocked his gloves together as Hayes had done and boosted the Major up toward the shuttle's roof.

Tucker noticed the Major's head appear suddenly out of the fiery mist and casually waved him off. "_Hang on for a moment_," he commented with renewed confidence. "_I think I'm beginning to understand how things work on this planet_." Turning the remnants of the crowbar around, he gripped it just slightly above the damaged end – the tip of which was still glowing bright orange from the surrounding heat. Then he hammered relentlessly away at the metal frame surrounding the final bolt, making certain that he damaged the crowbar and not his gloves or space suit. It only took about half a dozen impacts before the frame surrounding the bolt melted instantly away, fully releasing the dark black casing that safely housed the photonic warhead. "_Here it comes!_" grinned Tucker triumphantly.

With great care, Hayes climbed up to join him and together they slowly began lowering the casing down toward the surface below. "_Tell us when to stop lowering_," the Major requested, straining as he held one end of the torpedo casing tightly in his gloved hands.

"_We've got it!_" Archer called to them, allowing the two men on top of the shuttle to finally let go.

It only took seconds for Hayes and Tucker to drop back to the surface and rejoin the other members of their team. "_I hope we don't need tools to get where we're going_," the Commander commented sourly, "_Because we no longer _have_ any_."

Smiling reassuringly, Janeway patted him gently on the shoulder. "_What we're looking for is basically a holographic force field protecting a hidden passageway. It leads inside the base of one of the nearby mountains_," she told him. "_The entrance has been there for centuries, and is intricately camouflaged – specifically designed to mimic the surrounding terrain. Lt. Mayweather and I pinpointed its location using shuttle sensors while we were still in flight, since there is a standard, oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere behind it. In other words, it's the only _cold_ spot to be found in all of this heat_."

"_We pinpointed its _approximate_ location_," emphasized Mayweather, glancing back and forth at the persistent, ferocious azure mist. "_It's a lot harder to see where we're going than I thought it would be_."

"_How are we supposed to find it a camouflaged force field in the midst of all this?_" wondered T'Pol. "_If the entrance you speak of is truly well hidden, a deliberate search without even handheld scanners could take a considerable amount of time_."

Mayweather walked toward the front of the shuttle pod, curiously studying the nearest cluster of six mountains. Their close proximity made them appear truly gargantuan, even though only the lower portion of them was easily discernible though the fiery atmosphere. They were silhouetted in front of the setting evening sun, which continued to sink even lower on the horizon. "_I pointed the shuttle pod directly at the target coordinates when we landed_," he informed everyone cheerfully. "_Walking straight ahead should put us very close, but it's going to be very easy to get lost in all this mist_."

"_Let's tie each other together_," Archer suggested, unhooking a length of coiled rope from the belt at his waist. "_The last thing I want to do is come all this way and then lose someone along the way!_" He quickly encircled his waist with the line and tied it off before handing the remainder to Major Hayes. "_Travis and I will take the supply cases… Trip and the Major can carry the torpedo casing_."

"_Aye sir_," nodded Tucker enthusiastically. He looked quizzically in Janeway's direction. "_What about the bottom of our boots? The protective casing on those crowbars came off pretty easily, and they disintegrated as soon as it was gone_."

The red-haired Captain chuckled in response. "_Most of the surface soil is soft dirt_," she pointed out. "_Once we get to the rockier territory, I strongly encourage you not to kick anything. There's more of the gel in our supply cases, so we can double check our suits once we reach a protected atmosphere_."

"_How did you know that everything would still be here?_" wondered Archer. "_After all these centuries, you risked a lot by sending us here. A force field from so long ago could easily have failed_."

Janeway shook her head negatively. "_It wasn't that big of a risk_," she countered. "_My colleagues in the future can scan for that type of thing. Once we verified the force field was still active, it followed logically that the technology concealed inside would still be operative as well. Let's get going… we've got to get inside that mountain and back out again before someone notices our presence here_."

"_You'll get no argument here_," Archer agreed. He waited patiently until everyone finished roping themselves to the rest of the group, and then they began a slow, steady forward march outward from the leading tip of the shuttle pod.

* * *

It took twenty minutes to walk the short distance from the shuttle and reach the base of the southern-most mountain. After that, the nine members of the mission team from _Enterprise_ spent more than an hour desperately searching its rocky side. The surface area stretched thousands of meters in each direction, curving gently to form the overall, elliptical shape that comprised the massive foundation. As the minutes passed, frustration grew and Archer even overheard a few swear words… unusual for his people. While most of the group continued to search, Janeway and T'Pol stepped back for a moment to more carefully think through the unexpected problem facing them.

"_The darn thing is too well hidden!_" growled Mayweather irritably. "_How are we supposed to find it?_"

"_These do not look like normal mountains at all_," the Subcommander observed, peering closely at the rising, solid rock in front of them. "_This is not the result of volcanic activity. These mountains appear to have pierced the planet's surface long ago, as though pushed from below by a giant hand. Additionally, if the heat is indeed responsible for eroding the peaks, winnowing them down to sharp points, then why has it not burned away the rock at lower altitudes as well?_"

"_I didn't come all this way to solve every Tholian mystery_," Janeway replied tersely. "_If we can successfully settle our immediate problem, then that would be more than satisfactory_."

T'Pol nodded and began walking slowly forward, her gaze penetrating the swirling blue mist around them as she studied the rock face intently. "_Earlier aboard the shuttle, you mentioned that there were a considerable number of tectonic fault lines along the planet's surface. Perhaps the ground beneath our feet has shifted over the centuries, and eye level during years past is no longer eye level for us_."

"Excellent reasoning," acknowledged Janeway, following the Vulcan's movement. "_However, the entrance _must _be above ground, because it showed up very clearly on the shuttle pod's sensors_." She leaned down with her right hand and picked up a rock, which immediately glowed orange upon touching her glove. Taking careful aim, the Captain threw the rock directly at a point several meters above the surface. It bounced off the side of the mountain cleanly, clattering to a stop near its base. Others took notice of her action, and they too began throwing rocks at random heights and locations.

The activity continued for another fifteen minutes before T'Pol suddenly called for attention. "_I believe I have found it_," she informed them, pausing several hundred meters from the nearest crewmember. Tucker was the first to reach her, and she pointed toward a spot approximately three meters above the ground. "_Notice the streaks of black mineral in the rock," she stated informatively. "The design here precisely matches the same pattern approximately one meter to the left_."

"_How the_ hell _did you notice that?_" asked the astounded Commander.

T'Pol's expression appeared almost smug. "Vulcan children's puzzles are easier to solve."

Laughing, Tucker picked up a rock and threw it at the precise location she had indicated. Once again it struck solid rock and bounced back toward them. His amusement vanished and frustration returned.

The rest of the team quickly joined them, and this time it was Mayweather who tossed another rock toward the second location. There was a noticeable flare of scarlet energy before it rebounded away from the contact point. "_Aha!_" the Ensign chuckled elatedly. "_You did it! You found it Subcommander!_"

Tucker shook his head with astonishment. "_Who needs sensors when you've got T'Pol!_"

"_I'd still like to know how we're going to get in there_," mused Phlox thoughtfully. "_If we somehow manage to disable the force field surrounding the entrance, the cooler atmosphere inside will escape. Won't the heat out here damage any technology in there, as it would with our shuttle?_"

"_Normally it would_," Sisko agreed. "_This type of force field, however, is designed to be pressure sensitive. If we push hard against it, we should be able to pass through without injury_." To prove his point, he bent over and picked up Mayweather's rock. Then he threw it at the same spot, much more forcefully this time. The brief flare-up of scarlet energy was much brighter, and the projectile vanished completely as though it had truly passed through solid rock. "_You see?_"

"_That's at least three meters high_," noted Hoshi with a harrumph. "_How in blazes do we get ourselves and our equipment up there without something reliable? A ladder of some sort would be good_."

Hayes grinned at Tucker and leaned over, interlocking his fingers together once more. The Commander sighed heavily. "_I'm getting to be a real pro at this_," he decided wryly, allowing the Major to boost him up once again. There was a crackle of bright red energy as his fingers clamped hard along the unseen edge at the bottom of the entrance. "_You're right Captain Sisko_," Tucker called out, looking back down at them. "_It tingles a bit, but if I apply any significant pressure at all my hand passes right through_." He pulled himself completely up and climbed through, then leaned out far enough to hoist Hayes up next to him. Around them, glowing scarlet energy sizzled in electronic reaction to their presence. The hidden entrance lit up repeatedly, illuminating its overall shape as a near perfect oval.

"_Let's bring the torpedo up next_," suggested Tucker, looking downward toward the seven upturned helmeted faces. He and Hayes untied themselves and dropped their end of the rope down. "_We're going to have to go slow and keep the casing from bumping against the rock face. One small nick in the protective barrier will be all it takes to set off the warhead!_"

Archer immediately agreed with the idea. "_You go too_," he suggested to Sisko. "_With three people up top, it should be easier to stabilize the casing from both ends_." He leaned down and clasped his hands together, heaving the Deep Space Nine Captain upward long enough for Hayes and Tucker to grab him. It took them another half hour to work safely, but in the end they were able to cautiously move the torpedo casing up through the energy barrier. This proved to be the last major hurdle facing the _Enterprise_ team. After that, it was a much simpler matter to pass the supply cases upward. Sisko reached down with one strong hand and easily hauled Ensign Sato up beside him, followed seconds later by Doctor Phlox. T'Pol and Mayweather came next, then Kathryn Janeway and finally Captain Archer.

_Once everyone passed through the barrier, all they had to do was take a good look around. It was immediately apparent that the wild adventure to reach the planet was only the beginning of something far, far greater._


	11. Ties Of Blood And Water

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Ties Of Blood And Water

* * *

**

_Enterprise_ NCC-1701, Tholian Space, Alpha Quadrant

* * *

James T. Kirk was standing in the _Enterprise_ shuttle bay, next to the trim, streamlined shuttle craft _Columbus_, when the main entrance doors suddenly parted to admit Spock. The Vulcan noted that his Captain was busy reviewing the newest telemetry on an electronic data padd and paused to wait patiently. It didn't take long before Kirk noticed him and glanced over to meet the Science Officer's gaze. "Do you have that tactical report I asked for?" he asked curiously.

"Affirmative. Without primary sensors to work with, Mr. Chekov and I have done our best to compensate. We have met with limited success."

Leaning casually against the gray hull of the _Columbus_, Kirk nodded. "What have you learned?"

"A total of twenty-seven ships have towed us into orbit around an unknown, dead planetoid orbiting a rogue star." Spock was holding his own padd, and it listed the newest details. "The Tholians linked their web shield in with nine additional Tholian vessels that were already here – holding our missing eight civilian vessels captive along with one Andorian freighter." He handed his data padd to the Captain, allowing Kirk to see for himself. "The _Enterprise _has now joined the group of vessels held captive."

"What's on the planetoid?" the Captain asked inquisitively. "Have you been able to make a final determination?"

"Not so far," replied a slightly agitated Spock. Not having all the answers was usually the only thing that frustrated him to the point where it was easy for Kirk to observe the Vulcan working to suppress his emotion. It was Spock's only emotional button, and yet only someone who knew him as well as Kirk did would be able to spot the mild conflict reflected in his carefully controlled expression.

Having recognized the Vulcan's conflict, Kirk smiled reassuringly. "Just tell me what you _do_ know," he suggested politely. "Let's begin there and leave the unknowns aside for the moment."

"As Commander Halitrix informed us earlier, there is indeed a 'facility' of some sort on the planet's surface. The outpost is organized into two outer, concentric rings surrounding a domed center. According to our thermal sensors, the outermost ring appears to contain an atmosphere matching Tholian norms. The secondary, central ring has a much cooler interior, which is most probably where our people are being held. The central dome remains a mystery… without the ability to scan inside it for additional details, I can only speculate as to what might be in there."

"So we're dealing with a total of thirty-six enemy targets?" Kirk rubbed his chin thoughtfully with the fingers of his left hand. "We're going to need one _hell_ of a distraction to disrupt their defense perimeter."

"Without our warp drive to aid us, such a distraction will prove to be difficult," pointed out Spock.

"Difficult Spock, but not impossible."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow in surprise at the usual, nonstop bravado of his Captain. "There are three dozen Tholian ships linked together in the web surrounding us," he noted informatively. "At least six more are stationed at strategic points within this star system, and additional vessels are no doubt patrolling even farther out. If we are to successfully escape with all hostages alive and well, then what is needed would be more of a miracle than a diversion."

"I had Scotty completely shut down our warp drive," Kirk pointed out, noting by watching Spock's nearly undetectable body language that he had once again caught the Vulcan by surprise. "For now, engineering is completely useless to us anyway unless we manage to disable or escape from the dampening field."

Spock digested the new information carefully. "The Tholians will now consider the _Enterprise_ completely vulnerable and at their mercy," he acknowledged. "I take it you're planning to use the cold restart procedure when we leave… a controlled matter-antimatter implosion?"

Slowly and calmly, Kirk nodded affirmatively. "Yes," he admitted softly. "We'll have engines and weapons back on-line in five minutes instead of the usual thirty. But we have to plan this carefully… while Scotty's using precious time restarting the engines, we're going to need utter chaos in the immediate vicinity for as long as possible. Once power is restored, priority one will be to beam the prisoners on board. After that, we can take our chances at fighting our way free." He smiled confidently. "Given the skill and resourcefulness of this crew along with the top speed of the _Enterprise_, I think that makes for some _very_ good odds."

"One of the civilian vessels – a tourist liner called the _Aldebaran Queen_ – has not yet ejected the antimatter from its engine core," suggested Spock. "An explosion of that size near part of the enemy fleet would damage or force many of the ships to retreat temporarily, allowing us to disable other key targets comprising the link. However," he paused for a moment while thoroughly analyzing the situation, "without first restoring power to our phasers and photons, destroying the passenger ship could prove to be an extremely difficult objective."

"We need _weapons_ Spock, not necessarily phasers and photons. A sizeable enough stick will take down a Tholian as well as any phaser."

The Vulcan regarded him with the usual surprise and respect. "You have an idea?"

"I met with Scotty earlier, and he has already submitted several suggestions that I like a lot," Kirk replied, returning his full attention to the _Columbus_. "He's continuing to work on that problem as we speak – and as soon as we're done here I need _you_ to help him." He trailed off suddenly, deep in thought. "Do you think the Tholians will let us take a shuttle or two down to the planet so that Dr. McCoy can check on the condition of our civilians? Some of them may have untreated injuries…"

"I am almost certain Commander Halitrix will permit it." Spock's expression remained calm and controlled. "There are already several shuttles, along with a large assortment of escape pods from the civilian vessels docked along the top of the dome's central ring. The structure on the surface appears to be the intended destination for all Tholian detainees. Based on my observations, our adversaries apparently hold their prisoners captive here until the life support on their vessels begins to fail. After that, the civilians have no choice but to willingly evacuate to the detention facility on the surface."

Kirk took a moment to survey the expansive, surrounding hangar bay and the other shuttles parked along the walls. "What I still don't understand," he admitted with obvious frustration, "is _how_ that enemy fleet manages to keep their web shield intact – even while moving together at warp speed." He turned toward Spock, obviously impressed by the notion. "Cloaked vessels have to become visible in order to charge their weapons systems, so how have the Tholians managed to solve the elusive matter of the power curve… that crucial little detail?"

"Our telescopic imaging systems have confirmed that much of the web-based energy is recycled," responded Spock. "Mr. Chekov and I were able to get a very good look at the contact points where the energy strands touch each Tholian vessel."

"_Recycled!_" Kirk's smile was both relieved and immediate. "That makes perfect sense. How else could ships significantly smaller than the _Enterprise_ sustain energy output of that magnitude."

"Upon activation, the weapon of each ship draws very heavily upon engine power to create the various web strands. Once they are in place, however, each vessel in the link simply collects and reflects the energy transmitted from the others. It is an astonishing engineering achievement to say the least. Were it possible, I would be extremely interested in examining the software and hardware needed to so effortlessly add in new ships. The slightest error of any kind would compromise the integrity of the larger, existing web."

"Well, you've got your chance to inspect their technology up close," decided Kirk. "Unfortunately, you have to do it without the use of standard sensors." He smiled wryly. "As you know, life is rarely fair."

"Indeed," Spock replied. "Believe it or not, we have already learned a great deal. Aside from a very minimal residual energy loss at the various transfer points, I estimate that a vast majority of the overall web shield would remain permanently intact so long as the collectors and transmitters remain functional. The Tholians need only occasionally tap their engine reserves in order to replace the fraction of a percentage of energy that is lost through heat dissipation or other minor inefficiencies. It is a very efficient, useful design."

"I take it those web strands will slice through Tholian metal as easily as they would through our hull?"

"Most assuredly, _if_ we can manage to redirect them properly."

The Captain was ecstatic. "I'm taking a team to the surface to check on those civilians. While the _Columbus _is down there, you and Scotty are in charge of coming up with a way to disable those web transfer points. I want you to learn everything you need to in order to assist us in damaging or destroying them, and also to identify key ships in the network that we will need to target for maximum effect."

Again the Vulcan eyebrow soared. "Is that all?"

"For now yes." Kirk eyed the _Columbus_ confidently. "While on the surface, we'll only be able to communicate with you by flashing our running lights. I trust that you are up to date on your morse code."

"Always. I would point out, however, that your preferred method of communication will remain secure only so long as messages are encrypted."

"With you and Scotty busy working on our eventual way out of here, I can't chance taking Uhura along for the ride," Kirk noted, shaking his head negatively. "We'll have to flash our messages back and forth right out in front of them. Someone with experience has to coordinate everything from the bridge, and our fair communications officer will be the only bridge officer left."

The Vulcan nodded, accepting the Captain's judgment without question. "The Tholians are used to dealing with civilian prisoners," he acknowledged. "It is doubtful they will pay attention to running lights." he acknowledged.

"We can use our usual chess code to confuse anyone who is paying attention," said Kirk with more than a little satisfaction, "Excellent work Spock. We have the basics of a rescue plan in place even if we don't yet know all the specifics." He walked swiftly over to one of the wall communicators and pressed the activation button. "Kirk to Sulu."

"_Sulu here_."

"How are your preparations for the addition or more than one hundred passengers progressing?"

"_We're already finished Captain. Dr. McCoy and I have insured that adequately shielded quarters have been cleared on all available decks. If you keep the number of guests under one hundred twenty, we should be okay. Lt. Berriam reports that security will round everyone up as soon as they are beamed aboard, so we'll only be limited by the speed of our transporter. If we run into more people than expected, we'll have no choice but to put them in the corridors or the hangar bay_."

"That is perfectable acceptable – good work." Kirk paused briefly to review options before continuing. "Mr. Sulu, I want you to grab an EVA suit and report to the shuttle bay immediately. Bring Chekov, Dr. McCoy and two security officers along with you. We're all going down to the surface in the _Columbus_ to check on those civilians.."

"_An EVA suit…? And here I was hoping you were recruiting me for my piloting abilities_."

"Not this time. You're riding shotgun – and I mean that literally. We're going to tuck you in along the bottom of the shuttlecraft, between the engine nacelles. I hope you're ready for a very dangerous, sophisticated espionage mission."

"_Ready and willing as always, Captain_."

"Tell Uhura that she's in charge of my bridge until Spock and Scotty are finished studying the Tholian defenses. Once we have a way out of here, Spock can resume command until we get back."

"_Aye sir. Consider it done_."

"Kirk out." He paused briefly as the hangar doors to his immediate left unexpectedly snapped open. Montgomery Scott entered, carrying with him an armful of rifles and holstered handguns. Behind him, additional engineering crewmen followed closely, their arms filled with ammunition boxes and a single, larger supply case. "What's all this?" the Captain wondered, surveying all of the equipment.

"Everything you asked for, including weapons," announced Scotty proudly.

Spock also gave the equipment a curious once over before shifting his gaze toward Kirk. "It would appear that your earlier meeting with Engineer Scott was an extensive one," he speculated.

"Indeed it was," said Scotty with a wide grin, handing Kirk one of the streamlined, silver-colored rifles. "This is a TR-110, standard issue conventional firearm," he stated informatively. "It has two settings, allowing for semi- or fully automatic fire, and comes complete with clips of chemically-propelled projectiles… bullets, I believe they're called. I had some of my lads bring extra ammunition in case things get dicey down on the planet's surface."

The Captain hefted the rifle, looking carefully down its auto-sighting mechanism as he briefly familiarized himself with its weight and operation. "I requested that you come up with some sort of weapon, but really Scotty… does it have to be guns?"

The Chief Engineer shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "After a careful review of our tactical situation, I decided that you wouldn't want to walk down into the middle of an enemy camp with bows and slingshots." He jerked a thumb toward the still open hangar door and the adjoining corridor beyond. "We have detailed specifications for manufacturing more of these on file in the armory. Starfleet Intelligence has been predicting great things will happen with regenerative phaser technology for many years now, but until they actually produce something useful we're required to carry at least a limited supply of conventional armament."

Spock in particular appeared extremely dubious at the prospect. "The Tholians will likely permit us to visit the civilians, but I expect they will object strongly to the presence of weapons."

"Until they do, I strongly suggest you keep them close by," Scotty countered. He passed Kirk a holstered pistol. "The hand weapons are TR-108 semi-automatics… very easy to handle. Just make certain you keep the safety on until they're needed… there's no stun setting with these beasties."

"Well done Mr. Scott. _Very_ well done." The Captain studied the larger, tightly locked supply case. "Is this the spyware gear I asked for?" he guessed, running his fingers over the thick gray metal.

"Aye. It contains audio and video surveillance equipment, along with everything needed to covertly drill through even the strongest hull plating."

Kirk pointed toward the dormant _Columbus_. "Secure the supplies to the shuttle's ventral hull. Mr. Sulu is going to be our resident mole on this mission. He'll be riding down there, concealed right along with them until we reach our destination."

Scotty nodded in response; both he and his colleagues walked over to the shuttle. "Down you go lad," he nodded, watching one of the long limbed, red-shirted engineers drop down to his knees. The dark-haired crewman rolled over onto his back and gradually worked his way beneath the ventral hull. Carefully Scotty and a third engineer slid the supply case toward him, just within arm's reach. "Be certain to double-check all mag-locks and insure they're operating properly," noted Scotty firmly. "We wouldn't want anything working its way loose at a critical moment."

"Done," the crewman beneath the shuttle reported a moment later. "There are plenty of places to secure a safety harness. I highly recommend that Sulu hook himself directly to the supply case for added safety." Finished working, he smiled with amusement as Scotty and the other engineer each grabbed one of his legs and pulled him out from underneath.

"We're ready Captain," noted Scotty with a grin.

Sidling up next to his Captain, Spock had watched the event with extreme interest. "It would appear that you are preparing to do more than simply 'check' on civilians," he guessed casually. "Some of what you plan to do, in fact, will more than likely be quite dangerous."

Strapping the holster in place around his waist, Kirk slung the TR-110 rifle across his back. "Our job, from this point on, is to make the Tholians _afraid_ to mess with Federation vessels," he replied brusquely. "You stated things very well… they're used to dealing with slaves and civilians. I'm betting that they'll never expect an all-out assault from the crew of a captured military vessel that – by all accounts – should be completely helpless and under their control."

"And if the Tholians catch on to your plan to incite chaos?"

"Then, Mr. Spock, this will be one _very_ short mission."

* * *

Ensign Pavel Chekov sat next to Kirk on the short ride down to the domed alien installation. Wasting no time, the Captain input a completely new program into the communications panel the instant _Columbus_ left the _Enterprise_ hangar bay. "We now have encrypted local comm-traffic available through the shuttle's on board systems," he informed everyone.

As usual, Dr. McCoy hovered close behind the cockpit seats, hesitant to simply sit patiently and wait. "My Sickbay staff loaded plenty of medical supplies and an extra load of ration packs," he informed Kirk.

The Captain nodded with approval. "Sulu, how are you doing down there?"

There was surprisingly little static in the midst of so many vessels. "_I'm here_," the Lieutenant replied after a short pause. "_I'm literally being held in place by a few thin safety straps attached to the carefully formed hull of a Class "F" shuttlecraft. So far I have mild cramps in my knees… nothing serious_."

Unable to contain his curiosity, Chekov lowered the metal shielding that protected the triple windshield at the front of the Class "F" shuttle. "Look at all those enemy ships," he gasped in surprise, studying the view of the massive, glowing orange geometric web surrounding them. Even the thinnest of the inner locking strands seemed to throb more powerfully than anything they had seen previously from the Tholians. "This is a very powerful shield they've put in place to restrain us."

Sulu heard the Ensign's commentary and chuckled. "_I've been busy counting… from here I can currently see eighteen ships beneath us, all of which are participating in the generation of the web and dampening field. There are also relay points built into the surface of the planet at strategic locations surrounding the dome, allowing the ships in orbit to link in with ground-based, defensive shield units and protect the installation as well. When we launched I noticed two Tholian ships that have moved inside the web with us… I guess they don't consider our starship to be a credible threat any longer_."

"The overall, geometric design of the web is very impressive," Chekov was continuing his own study of the alien fleet's general layout while Kirk worked the helm controls. "It will be quite a challenge to escape from this place."

"It won't be as difficult as you might think," mused Kirk in response. "Spock and Scotty are busy working on a solution to that problem… they'll come up with something."

He adjusted their heading and the nose of the _Columbus_ dipped sharply forward into a steeper descent, allowing everyone a brief glimpse at the domed structure that was their intended target. Using the shuttle's imaging sensors, Kirk zoomed in on several key areas before choosing a specific location as his target on the central, habitable ring. "There are lots of shadows down along the base of the structure, and this planet is spinning toward its night side fairly quickly," Kirk observed, studying the welcome sensor telemetry currently denied them aboard _Enterprise_. "Sulu… once we dock I want you to remain hidden for at least ten minutes. They'll be watching us initially, but once we enter the station their attention will likely follow us. They almost certainly will want to know what we're up to."

"_Don't worry sir, I'll be fine_," Sulu promised. "_I'm the ghost they'll never see_."

"The cockpit controls will remain on automatic standby, including the comm-system. That way we'll be able to keep in touch with each other using communicators, especially if we become separated. Unless the Tholians interfere, our local network utilizing the shuttle's computer will remain in place until the shuttle's fuel supply is fully depleted."

"Wouldn't communicators work anyway?" asked McCoy curiously. He could see the rising arc of the central dome in the cockpit windows, and realized their short journey downward was almost over.

"We want our communications to be _encrypted_ and isolated to a military frequency," Kirk pointed out to him. "That is, unless you don't mind the Tholians listening in on our transmissions."

"No, you go ahead and do what you have to do Jim," decided McCoy, turning to gather up his medical equipment. He shook his head at the odd assortment of medications and devices he had selected. Without first seeing the inside of the Tholian compound, there was simply no way to determine what kind of medical attention the captured civilians would need. He had even loaded several collapsible crash carts and a portable surgical unit, just in case.

"Who knows what the Tholians are doing with them," said Chekov ominously.

"My guess would be slave labor of some kind."

Kirk fired the shuttle's maneuvering thrusters and slowed their craft almost to a virtual stop. The central humanoid habitat area was a ten meters wide, doughnut-shaped ring encircling the central dome. Its peak was almost five meters higher than the outer ring, with a wide assortment of various-sized docking ports scattered along the metal hull. Dozens of other shuttles and escape pods were already connected to a majority of them.

Kirk's touch on the thruster controls propelled the _Columbus_ slowly forward until he spotted an area large enough to accommodate the shuttle. "That looks good," he said finally, pointing toward the windows and the ominous view of the alien hull. It took him only seconds to maneuver the shuttle into position alongside an empty docking port. Almost immediately a protective, pressurized gateway extended outward toward the shuttle's hatch.

"I wonder how many other species they've done this to," growled McCoy softly while intently studying the other docked vehicles. "Judging by the variety of escape vehicles out there, they've been at this for quite some time now."

"_I spotted an Andorian freighter sitting idle near our missing civilian vessels_," added Sulu, who was obviously still listening to their conversation on the open comm-link. "_Other than that, it's pretty hard to recognize the configurations used by other species without a closer look_."

"We don't have time for that," decided Kirk conclusively. He studied the sensor console carefully. "It looks like their docking gateway is fully pressurized with a standard oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. Whoever is inside that central ring is indeed breathing the same atmosphere we are."

"While the Tholians in the outer ring no doubt watch everything very closely." McCoy shook his head with obvious disgust. The mistreatment of life forms was traditionally one of his weakest emotional pressure points. The noble Doctor simply couldn't bear to stand by to see living things suffer.

"We will just have to be cautious," Chekov suggested.

"Agreed." Kirk touched the controls in front of him. "Sulu, I'm putting everything on standby except for the comm-link. It will keep watch over our communicators and link in with the transceiver in your helmet. When you feel enough time has passed, begin your journey along the outside of this structure. Learn everything you can, try to stay out of sight, and plant spyware devices anywhere you think it's safe to drill."

"_Acknowledged_."

McCoy watched the Captain rise from his seat while slinging the TR-110 rifle over his shoulder. "I really hope this doesn't get ugly Jim."

"I don't think we have a choice Bones," said Kirk bluntly, pointing toward the windows and their view of the glittering orange energy web. "We're going into this compound and get our people back." He turned and opened the shuttle's hatch, waiting just long enough for the doors to part before entering the connecting gateway. Flanked by a pair of _Enterprise_ security officers, the Doctor and Chekov gathered together their own equipment and followed close behind.

* * *

_Columbus_ Mission, Tholian Detention Center, Alpha Quadrant

* * *

As he usually did on missions away from the _Enterprise_, Kirk led the way through the portable gateway that connected the Tholian airlock to the shuttle craft. He moved swiftly forward across the five meter walk way and pressed his hand against a simple, electronic panel. The motion activated the outer hatchway leading into the alien facility. "Would you mind slowing down just a bit Jim?" asked McCoy wryly, following him out of the shuttle. "You don't want to outrun your own security backup, do you?"

James T. Kirk smiled with mild amusement and waved Chekov and the two security officers inside. He pressed a dirty green button on a very simple, very old wall panel – the control necessary to seal the outer doorway. The Captain next focused his attention on the inner doorway control system. "Let's see what's in here," he decided grimly, noticing that the electrical equipment appeared at first glance to be extremely ill maintained. "Just look at the condition this equipment is in… how _old_ everything is. It's a wonder anything in here works at all. I'll bet this place hasn't seen even a hint of a maintenance team in years."

"No bet here," commented Chekov after sizing up the alien installation.

Despite the dilapidated condition of the wall panels, the inner doorway snapped cleanly in two. Kirk and the security officers entered the alien compound first, their rifles held at the ready, with Chekov and McCoy trailing close behind. They strode cautiously down a gradually inclining ramp that led toward the main living area below. Since the entrance doorways were situated much higher than ground level, the simple sloping arrangement allowed for passengers to arrive at any docking port without the need for a functional, two-level elevator system at each airlock.

"This place is _terrible!_" declared McCoy after a quick, summary assessment. He glanced left and right, studying the dreary living conditions within the central ring. They had indeed found the missing civilians, at least a dozen of which were scattered across the immediate area. Dirty, well-used mattresses lined the floor in all directions, along with old, soiled sheets used by prisoners who had thinned noticeably during their brief stay with the Tholians. Old, dull metal food trays lay scattered throughout, most of which were still peppered with rotting scraps of uneaten food. The scent of people in crisis permeated the entire structure, leaving the Doctor to shake his head in absolute disgust.

Essentially the crew from the _Enterprise _had entered a long, winding corridor that eventually circled the central dome and connected with itself… a near perfect circle. On the inner wall there were standard, humanoid-sized doorways situated approximately twelve meters apart – each of which was tightly closed. Below the upper airlock walkway on the outer wall, a smooth amber-colored surface that was not metal reflected the dim overhead lighting back at them.

"Interesting," mused Kirk thoughtfully, studying the unusual layout. He pointed at the unusually colored wall surface with a confident nod of his head. "That flat surface has got to be some sort of one-way mirror. I'll bet you a month's pay there are Tholians on the other side – hunkered down safely in the outer ring – watching everything we say and do."

"That is _exactly_ what they do." All five men turned at the sound of the strange, raspy voice. Behind them, curled up against the inner wall and wrapped in one of the thin blankets, was a very thin Andorian. Despite the chilliness of the surrounding atmosphere, sweat lined the forehead below his shock of white hair. Beads of perspiration were evident on his deep blue skin, and it was obvious to the alien that he noticed the newcomers studying his unusual condition. "It may seem chilly for _you_," he informed them. "I, however, spend a lot of time on my home world where the temperature is usually _much_ cooler."

Shouldering his weapon, Kirk sized the alien up quickly. "Who are you?" he asked with interest.

"My name is Zund," the Andorian said cordially, smiling slightly at the sight of new faces and the weapons carried by the newly arrived Starfleet officers. "I am all that is left of my crew, the _last_ to survive." He gestured toward the humans lying on filthy mattresses surrounding them. "Those are your people… but then, I would expect that is why you are here."

McCoy looked at the dirty floor and then the hopeless expressions on the faces of the captured civilians. His gaze traveled further, and he noticed the amber-hued observation wall was obstructed by very simple, filthy rest rooms at rare intervals. They looked to be portable units hastily attached for use by the prisoners. Other than serving as a place to deposit human waste, they served no other function. "Jim…" the Doctor gasped, appalled by the mistreatment of so many helpless people.

"_Go_," Kirk told him firmly. "Begin treating them. Do what you have to do Bones." McCoy nodded gratefully and moved away from their small group, followed very closely by a wary Chekov. The two red-shirted security officers stayed with the Captain, continuing to hold their weapons at the ready.

"If you had gotten here earlier, you could have saved lives," said Zund regretfully. "Unfortunately, more than a few of your people have already been sacrificed… just as all of mine were."

"What the devil is going on in here?" demanded the Captain, his mood growing angrier by the moment. "I want to know specifically… what _happened_ to your crew?"

Zund responded by pointing toward the sealed doors strategically aligned along the inner wall. "They went in _there_," he told them somewhat dejectedly. "Two or three at a time, the Tholians ordered them inside. And, unfortunately for us, whoever goes in that place never seems to come out."

"Explain." Clearly, Kirk was clearly not in the mood for enigmatic riddles.

The Andorian shrugged casually in response. "I wish truly wish that I could," he replied glumly. "I have been laying here for weeks, making excuses for my own cowardice. So helping you would bring me at least some solace, and it truly pains me that I do not know more."

"You have _no_ idea what's happening here… no idea as to _why_ you were abducted?"

"No," Zund snapped, growing a little bit defensive. "As has been the case with your people, my vessel was captured and my crew forced to evacuate here. We receive food and water only occasionally. Every once in a while, one of those doors opens. When it does, the Tholians announce how many of us they want to go in there. They provide no other instructions except for an intimidating warning that the specified number of individuals _must_ go in. If we do not comply before their deadline, our captors withhold what little food and water we normally receive during the next scheduled meal period."

"So who ends up going in there?"

Zund smiled weakly, but not due to any sort of a positive emotion. His was more of a sarcastic, cynical expression. "Just _who_ specifically is to be sacrificed is left completely up to us to work out amongst ourselves. I can assure you, that this odd Tholian policy has initiated many fights among the people struggling to survive here, both physical and verbal."

One of the security guards studied the Andorian doubtfully. "_Someone_ has to decide. Who among you makes the final decision?"

"It varies each time," Zund said softly. "At first several of the more curious aboard our ship volunteered to go. When they didn't come out, the eagerness of others to investigate the center of this complex understandably dissipated very quickly." He glanced down at the dirt and blurred smears on the dirty metal floor beneath his rotting mattress, obviously battling his own internal demons. "Most of the ship commanders, including my own Captain, are long since gone… They naturally took responsibility for their crews and volunteered themselves. A few of their senior officers followed suit." He paused, and the haunted look on his face told Kirk as much about what was going on as any words. "One of your Captains is still here… alive and well," continued Zund after a short pause. "I believe that, like me, he is struggling to deal with his cowardice and inability to stand up for his crew."

Kirk studied the nearest doorway intensely, moving toward it and running his fingers carefully along the seam at its edges. "No one has told _any_ of you what happens to the people who go in there?"

Zund shook his head sternly. "_Once_ we tried to resist together – everyone refusing as a group to cooperate. Several Gorn reptilians entered through one of the airlocks, picked two people at random and tortured them in front of us. Finally, they threw their prisoners inside one of the open doorways. It closed almost immediately and we never saw them again."

"Where is the remaining Captain you mentioned?"

Pointing past Kirk and toward the slowly curving corridor in the distance, the Andorian sighed. "He's down there somewhere – be careful when you speak with him. He too has made excuses and repeatedly refused to volunteer himself. You can imagine the arguments that we have all had in this place… the fist fights, the emotional mind games that the Tholians have forced us to play…"

Kirk opened a ration kit attached to his belt and offered Zund some food and water. "It sounds like you've all been seriously abused, and mistreatment of prisoners _is_ a war crime under Federation law. I'm going to find the remaining ship Captain and visit with him for awhile, but I'll naturally have some additional questions for you later."

"I'll be here," Zund chuckled darkly. "That is, unless one of those doors should open. I've been surprised that the humans around me have left me alone… that they haven't grabbed me and thrown me inside during one of the sacrificial periods. Unfortunately I'm the prisoner with seniority… I've been here the longest now." He sighed heavily. "This place bleeds the living spirit out of people."

"A psychologist can deal with your mental issues and your inability to resist inherent survival instincts once we get out of here," the _Enterprise _Captain decided, mildly scolding the Andorian. "In the meantime, rest assured that _no_ more civilians will pass through those doors against their will. If the Tholians order anyone else inside, my crew and I will investigate the matter further."

Zund harrumphed loudly. "If you go in there, Captain, you and your people will die too. I don't know what they keep in there, but whatever it is kills every living thing that it comes in contact with."

This time it was Kirk who laughed. "People have told me before that I was going to die," he countered sharply. "Do me the simple courtesy of _waiting_ until you see what my crew is capable of before you pass judgment." He reached down toward his waist and pulled free his communicator. Its electronic chirp broke the silence as the Captain flipped it expertly open. He removed a device from inside and hooked it on his right earlobe. "Sulu, are you in position?"

"_Aye, sir. The first spyware device is already in place. The drill on its tip passed through three separate layers of hull plating. The self-sealing stem bolts in the device all activated immediately and prevented loss of atmosphere. Once penetration was completed, the drill retracted just like it's supposed to and deployed the camera. There's been no sign that anyone detected the intrusion. If they know I'm out here, they haven't done anything to try and stop me_."

"Well done," Kirk replied, keeping his voice low and the communicator up near his mouth to hide the movement of his lips. "Were you able to see anything on the imager?"

There was a brief pause followed by light laughter. "_Yes. I saw dozens and dozens of cargo containers and very little else. It was a very boring, disappointing view actually. The imaging device burned out from the heat seconds later, but I left the device in place as instructed."_

"What about your primary target… the central dome? Were you able to determine what is in there?"

"_Negative. Each spyware camera only has six stem bolts, and the dome has an extra thick hull with more than three layers. Whatever is in there appears to be very well protected._ _I'm moving back to your side of the outer ring now… that's where I expect the Tholian operations center will be_."

"Understood," said Kirk professionally. "How tough has the climbing process been? Is it easier to move around in the lighter gravity?"

"_Somewhat_," the Lieutenant replied. "_The mag-locks on my knees hold me in place just fine while I release the hand versions long enough to maneuver. But I fully expect to be stiff and sore tomorrow, rest assured. Don't misunderstand, but I sincerely hope I'm back on the _Enterprise_ by then_."

"Don't wear yourself completely out. I'm going to need you fully functional and at the helm to help get us out of here." Kirk paused, smiling as he visualized the Lieutenant climbing around in the atmosphere-less void outside the structure. "Unless you receive new instructions to the contrary, forget the dome for now. We have a way into it right here. Continue placing the spy ware devices at random points along the outer ring – _especially_ near locations where you can specifically determine that there is a Tholian presence."

The Andorian had been listening intently to the conversation, and he regarded the Captain with fresh interest. "Just _who_ are you people?" he asked curiously.

"We're your rescuers," said Kirk with a confident smile. "As for the Tholians… well, let's just say that we're the people Starfleet sent to make certain they have a really _bad_ day."

* * *

The first thing Kirk did next after visiting with Zund was to conduct a complete, meticulous search of the entire circular living area. He and the security guards encountered dozens of people as they moved, and all of them appeared frightened, ill fed, and more than a little desperate. Most reached out and grabbed his uniform as he passed, expressing gratitude and relief that someone had finally come to bring them home. Knowing quite a bit about the psychology of the human mind, the Captain did not disclose to them the fact that the _Enterprise_ was also currently held captive. Such a disclosure would only demoralize the hapless detainees further, and Kirk steadfastly continued refusing to consider his starship helpless.

After they had thoroughly checked the compound, Kirk nodded to the two security officers. "Lt. Marcus," he stated somberly, gesturing first to the left and then to the right. "Take Mr. Rowan with you and conduct a head count – I want to know how many people are in here."

"Aye sir," nodded the tall, muscular dark-haired Marcus.

"Once you have a head count, I want you to begin moving people into clusters of six to nine people," the Captain continued. "I don't care how you do it or what you tell them, but I want them prepped and in position so that our crew on the _Enterprise_ can beam up multiple groups as quickly as possible. When Spock and Scotty finish their work, we're going to need to move _fast_. We're not leaving the area until we have recovered everyone."

"We'll take care of it Captain," promised Ensign Rowan.

Eventually, after backtracking almost halfway through the ring, Kirk located Chekov and Dr. McCoy. They were tending to a pair of disheveled, unshaven men, one of whom was dressed almost completely in dark black civilian clothing. The other wore a dirty, torn yellow and green uniform trimmed with gold braid – apparel that was consistent with an officer on a civilian passenger liner.

The Doctor glanced up as the Captain approached, and he smiled warmly upon seeing his friend. "These are the people to talk to, Jim." Behind McCoy, a line was forming as more and more people began to realize that a Doctor was in the house.

"Who are they?" asked the Captain curiously.

The man in black held out his hand and grinned with obvious relief. "I am Chaplain William Thomson," he replied, continuing to smile as Kirk accepted his handshake. "My companion here is Captain Bernard Ridge. We, along with many of our colleagues here, are from the _Aldebaran Queen_."

"It's nice to meet you both." Kirk sized the two up, noting that the Chaplain appeared to be handling matters very well. The passenger liner's Captain, by contrast, was not doing nearly as well. Zund's earlier assessment of the man's mental condition proved to be an accurate analysis. He looked as though he was destined for a nervous breakdown, _if_ he was not already suffering from one. McCoy pressed a hypospray firmly against Ridge's right arm, and the man's tense expression immediately softened somewhat.

"Who _are_ you people?" wondered Captain Ridge, glancing at the new faces with puzzlement. His mind was racing too fast – aggravated by nonstop stress into a state where he barely even remembered where he was. "I haven't seen any of you before. Are you _new_ prisoners?"

"No," Kirk replied emphatically. "We're a Starfleet rescue team sent here to free all of you." He ignored the short look of doubt McCoy cast his way, determined to keep hope alive.

"_Starfleet_… oh thank God!" gasped Ridge, falling to his knees and beginning to sob uncontrollably. For several minutes thereafter, Kirk's efforts to ask him additional questions were in vain. This time he glanced toward McCoy with a sharp look of concern.

"It's the medication Jim," the Doctor replied. "It just released everything he's been suppressing in his mind for _days_ now. The emotion has _got_ to come out of him or his mind will snap."

Kirk's gaze shifted almost immediately to Thomson. "You look like you're doing okay," he observed. "How is it that this place hasn't affected you as negatively as it has all of the others?"

A weak smile flashed briefly across the sandy-haired Chaplain's face. Some of the hairs in his short, newly grown beard were graying, indicating that he was fast approaching middle age. "In my profession, I have been trained to think first of the welfare of others," Thomson replied informatively. "From a psychological standpoint, I suppose the constant need for me to care and counsel the others has helped me keep my mind off of my own predicament."

"You're a man of faith?"

"Yes." Instantly his expression transformed into one of deep concern. "Usually I hold services once or twice per week aboard the _Queen_. Other than that my job consists mainly of marrying young couples who have fallen in love and want to enter the bonds of matrimony while traveling in space. That's my _normal_ job. Here…" he trailed off, momentarily at a loss for words. "…_here_ I have done my best to try and keep these people going. Many of them have considered matters hopeless for some time now."

"How long have you people been here?" Chekov asked inquisitively.

"Our vessel has been here for only a week, possibly more." Thomson sighed with frustration. "The lighting never changes in here, so it has been difficult to tell. Time seems to pass very slowly for us – our captivity already seems like an eternity to me. Many of the other prisoners, though, serve on merchant vessels that were moving cargo through standard Federation shipping lanes. Most of those folks have been incarcerated a _lot_ longer than our own crew. There is also an Andorian fellow somewhere nearby. The temperature seems to bother him a great deal, even though it's relatively cool…"

"Yes," nodded Kirk. "We've met him."

Captain Ridge took several deep breaths as McCoy's recently administered medication continued to assist his badly strained mental faculties. "You said you were from _Starfleet?_" he asked suddenly, looking up toward the faces above him. Chekov reached down and assisted the man back to a standing position.

"We are." McCoy used a portable light from his med-kit and studied the dilation of Ridge's pupils. His normal analytical equipment had refused to function in the midst of the Tholian dampening field, so he too was working under less than ideal conditions. Simple devices powered by batteries appeared to remain functional. Everything else was – at least for the moment – was completely useless.

"Do you know of a Lieutenant Terrence Ridge?" wondered Ridge curiously, high anxiety still evident in his voice. "He is my brother – a true hero. He serves on the _Potemkin_, and I send him messages on a regular basis. At least, I used to…"

"I've never met him," stated Kirk truthfully. "However, the _Potemkin_ is part of the task force assisting my own starship in this rescue mission."

Ridge's expression grew almost manic. "Can I _see_ him? _Please?_"

Placing a reassuring hand on Ridge's shoulder, Kirk smiled. "In time," he promised. "First we have to find the best way out of here." He retreated a couple of steps, motioning for Chekov and the Doctor to follow suit. "If you two will excuse us for a moment, we need to have a private conversation."

"Certainly," nodded Thomson. "I'll keep an eye on Captain Ridge for you."

As soon as they were alone, Kirk's gaze fell on Chekov. "I want you to assist the security guards," he requested firmly. "They're counting heads and moving people into groups so that we can transport them as fast as possible aboard the _Enterprise_ once power is restored. Make certain everybody understands that they must remain stationery in order to insure their best chance of survival." He shifted his focus to McCoy, pointing to the line of people still waiting for help. "Doctor, keep treating these people and contact me on your communicator if you need another med-kit. I'm going back to the shuttle craft for a few minutes."

The Doctor looked perplexed. "The shuttle craft? What in blazes are you going to do there?"

Kirk smiled confidently. "I'm going to flash Spock a message with the _Columbus_' running lights and give him an update on our status here. He will likely send us a response, and I'm very curious to know whether or not he and Scotty are ready to get us the hell out of here."

* * *

Delta Quadrant, February 25, 2154, Aboard the _U.S.S. Relativity

* * *

_

Captain Thomas Joseph Ducane stepped out of the turbolift and onto the small bridge of the _Relativity_ after receiving a page from Lt. Commander Ingram. Her message was short and to the point, letting him know that the Timeship had dropped out of warp, somewhere in the Delta Quadrant. Ingram was beginning to show more and more initiative with each passing day, and that was something Ducane wanted to encourage. He was fully aware of the young woman's many talents and growing experience in Starfleet, and she was understandably eager to take advantage of them during this latest mission.

Both Lt. Commander Ingram and Ensign Murry were waiting for him when he arrived. "Do I need to summon Commander Roberts or any of the others?" the Captain asked curiously. Walking toward the lower, port side of the bridge, he descended the small flight of stairs and approached the main operations consoles. On the large viewscreen in front of him, a central, green timeline stretched from left to right. It was almost lost among hundreds of other alternatives, each branching off and flagged with a variety of color codes from a blazing red point near the left edge.

_The future was literally hanging on what the crew of the Timeship did – or did not do – next._

"There is no need to disturb anyone else yet," decided a tight-lipped Ingram. She continued studying the astonishing amount of new, incoming telemetry. "The Roberts android is an excellent teacher. I'm really starting to get the hang of this link he established with Data's subspace network."

Curious, Ducane folded his arms in front of him and smiled appreciatively. "What have you learned?"

"Someone utilized a Preserver RI-CAD headset in this sector within the last ten minutes," she told him triumphantly. "There are also fuel traces from both the _Thraex_ and a Borg cube… probably a smaller sphere or scout-class vessel."

Ensign Murry cast an astonished gaze at her friend and colleague. "You can tell all that by using Data's network?" she asked, clearly impressed.

"Actually, I'm using the _Relativity_'s sensors. Our connection to the network greatly extends their range using similar equipment buried within subspace. I'm quite literally watching the entire galaxy… all _four_ quadrants. As soon as Soran activated the device, I was able to pinpoint his location almost instantly."

Smiling wryly as he watched Ensign Murry shake her head in amazement, Ducane remained focused on the matter at hand. "Do you know where Soran is now?"

"Yes, but you're not going to like what I've discovered."

Ducane wiped his eyes with the tips of his fingers and chuckled. "It's still very early in the morning, so please don't give me any jazz, Lt. Commander. You don't have your own ship _yet_. I want to know… _where_ is Soran now?"

"He currently has the _Thraex_ cloaked and is stalking another Borg cube approximately fifteen light years from here. But that's nothing unusual, since we know his objective… what's extremely interesting in this case is that there appears to be a _second_ cloaked vessel accompanying him."

"_Another_ Preserver vessel from the future?" The mere thought sent Ducane's pulse racing.

"I don't think so." Ingram wrinkled her nose as she squinted at the latest data on her console. "I double-checked my latest scans to be certain. There's no detectable temporal signature on the second vessel. I can only be 95 percent certain without an inter-phasic scan, but at this point I'm as certain as I can be. If I increase our sensor output any higher, the Borg will be able to detect our presence in their space." She cast a wary glance over her shoulder at the Captain. "Are you prepared to confront Soran again?"

"Yes," the Commander replied without the slightest bit of hesitation. "I am. Ensign Murry, cloak the _Relativity_ and take us to those coordinates immediately, maximum speed."

"Aye sir."

They arrived within minutes and began a completely new waiting game. As the seconds ticked by, Ducane suddenly realized that only a minimum night shift complement currently manned his bridge. Turning to the crewman sitting behind him, he nodded to catch the man's attention. "Alert Frank Roberts, James Kirk and Jean-Luc Picard," he decided. "Request that they come to the bridge immediately, along with the rest of our senior staff. If Soran follows through on his previous threat, things could get nasty in one heck of a hurry." He redirected his attention to Murry. "Ensign, please take the ship to yellow alert."

"Yellow alert, aye Captain." The alarm klaxon sounded just once, to alert everyone on duty. After that, lights at strategic areas throughout the ship continued to intermittently blink bright yellow in acknowledgement of the _Relativity_'s ongoing, elevated security status.

The left edge of Ingram's lip curled upward as part of her confident smile. "I know where Soran is," she told them. "He and the second vessel are holding a steady course, paralleling the cube at coordinates 327 mark 9. The Borg are completely unaware of his presence, but I'm not. Our inter-phasic sensors could kick him out of cloak fairly easily…"

"That will be our _last_ option Jess," replied Ducane, shaking his head fiercely. "The less of our capabilities the Borg are able to scan, the better off all of us will be. Floating all of this technology right next to them in this century is an absolutely _stupid_ idea… they are one of the most creative and adaptable species ever to inhabit this galaxy."

Without warning the viewscreen automatically shifted its current image, dropping the visual of the timeline analysis in favor of new activity detected by sensors. In front of them the _Thraex_ unexpectedly decloaked, appearing almost magically against the backdrop of bright stars and empty space. Almost immediately the Borg cube came to a stop and paused, scanning the new contact with interest. The communications panel between Murry and Ingram flashed bright green. "_Welcome back to the Delta Quadrant,_ Captain _Ducane_," Soran's voice said, erupting loudly out of a nearby speaker. "_It is good to know that you are not the type of person to shy away from brinksmanship_."

"Unfortunately, neither are you."

"_WE ARE THE BORG. PREPARE TO BE ASSIMILATED. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE_."

Ducane watched the Borg vessel attempt to lock a tractor beam onto the _Thraex_. When that move failed, the drones on board immediately began launching a powerful offensive attack. Bright green flashes of weapons fire, along with orange and red explosions lit up the large viewscreen. As with the tractor beam, their attacks failed completely. The Preserver starship's powerful shields completely deflected the incoming attacks.

That was when Ducane noticed the second ship decloaking next to Soran's stolen electronics vessel. He recognized it immediately… its spherical shape and configuration almost precisely matched pictures he had viewed in Starfleet's security archives. Normally unflappable, the Commander's eyes widened as he continued to study the bending arcs and contours of the metallic devices affixed along its surface and the glowing green light emitted by the vessel's primary generators. Behind him, the lift doors snapped open to admit Roberts, Picard and James Kirk. "Ensign Murry, please decloak the _Relativity_," the Commander decided. "We might as well officially join this party."

"What have you got Captain?" asked Roberts curiously.

"Trouble," noted Ducane with an uneasy chuckle. "And a barrel full of it, I might add. We've managed to locate Soran, but our elusive Doctor has somehow managed to acquire a Xindi super weapon."

Temporarily confused by the abrupt appearance of the spherical vessel followed shortly thereafter by the _Relativity_, the Borg momentarily paused their attack.

_The next showdown was already well underway.

* * *

_

_**Author's Notes: **Okay, after reading **Le'Letha**'s latest review, I edited this Chapter specifically to add a few comments. I always let her know what wavelength I'm operating on, and decided that some of our discussion might interest other readers as well. Most of you have probably read this section already, but I'm putting them in here anyway. **(a) **References to the TR- models of firearms come from the seventh season DS9 episode "Field of Fire. It was an Ezri-Dax driven episode that gave her a chance to embrace her inner killer. Yes, it was particularly creepy. In that episode we got a brief look at a TR-116, a much more advanced model of the chemically-propelled firearm than Kirk and crew are using in this Chapter. I "dumbed down" the technology of the TR- series by about a century so that it would fit in with the NCC-1701 timeline. **(b)** Also, since the DS9 writers were famous for things like Morn never speaking and self-sealing stembolts (the usage of which was NEVER explained), I decided to add stembolts into this Chapter, suggesting at least ONE possible use for them. **(c)** If you think this story is a little wild and out of control now (with creepy mysteries to be resolved), your patience is about to be handsomely rewarded. Things begin to accelerate from here!  
_


	12. Through The Looking Glass

_**Author's Notes:**_ _Just a short comment to reassure readers. As usual, this Chapter answers a few questions and raises some new ones. Fear not. Eventually... ALL will be revealed!!!!_

* * *

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Through The Looking Glass

* * *

**

Concealed Stronghold, Surface of the Tholian Home World, July 28, 2268

* * *

Jonathan Archer was the last to be hauled up through the holographic force field concealed slightly more than three meters above the mountain's base. Exhausted by the long walk and extensive physical work, he lay on his stomach for a moment and allowed himself a few seconds of respite. Moving the heavy torpedo warhead had proven to be an extremely difficult and challenging task, one that was even more daunting when the slightest tear in his space suit would lead to an instantaneous, fiery death. Overall, however, he was an athletic man and in excellent shape, so his energy returned quickly.

It didn't take long for his curiosity to get the better of him, and he glanced back over his shoulder with interest at the strange, scarlet-tinged barrier. From his new vantage point on the inside, Archer noticed that the threshold they had passed through was now completely visible. A shimmering, translucent oval crackled across the entrance, allowing him to see the basic outline of the barren, alien landscape on the distant horizon. The view hadn't really changed all that much – except now it was partially obscured by the protective, holographic energy field.

"_I wonder how long that hidden entrance has been here_," Archer mused thoughtfully, studying the strange alien gateway. From somewhere unknown, a hidden power source kept it sizzling.

Sisko turned slightly and smiled. "_Estimates by some scientists regarding similar locations discovered in the future date the existence of this technology as far back as 2,000 centuries_."

The _Enterprise_ Captain stared in awe. "_And all this time, the Tholians had no idea any of it was here?_"

"_None_." Sisko waited patiently, arms folded in front of him. "_The race that built this facility had a nasty reputation – they were perceived by many as being 'ghostly'. According to legend, they were known as 'demons of air and darkness'. Races on many worlds still entertain old superstitions within their culture as a direct result of Iconian interference in the affairs of their ancestors_."

"_Iconians?_" Hoshi's eyes widened slightly. "_I've heard of that race… from an archaeology course during my early days with Starfleet_." She nodded confidently, remembering. "_Demons of air and darkness is definitely how they're remembered_." She glanced toward Mayweather to gauge his reaction.

"_Don't look at me_," Travis told her. "_I'm just the pilot on this mission. Aside from assisting with the grunt work, my job is basically done until we're ready to leave_."

In front of them, Commander Tucker and the others had also risen to their feet and were busy dusting themselves off. Tucker, in particular, was the first to turn around and take a good look at the interior of the hidden, underground complex. "_Captain_," he gasped, eyes widening in utter astonishment. "_You've _really_ got to take a look at this!_"

Turning around, Archer and Sisko gazed with fascination at a spacious, dimly lit underground cavern. The floor was made of stone and relatively flat, but the ceiling high above was clearly dome shaped. Long ago it had been meticulously carved out of the mountainous rock. In the center of the chamber was a large, sophisticated computer system that – like the force field shielding the entrance – was clearly still receiving power from somewhere. Bright blue, red and amber lights still winked colorfully along the surfaces of its consoles. The mission team was standing on the southern side of the device.

Directly in front of the rocky wall on its other three sides were tall, rectangular energy portals. They were obviously energy gateways of some sort, and an unknown technology held them firmly in place approximately half a meter above the surface of the rocky floor. As the seconds passed, the images in each of the three gateways began to shift to something entirely new. The sight of them utterly captivated the _Enterprise_ crew in particular, most of whom had never encountered anything similar to what they were currently observing.

Mayweather studied the computer first, noticing that there was no accumulated dust despite the passage of centuries. "_Have those gateways been here all the time?_" he asked. "_Or did they activate when we entered the chamber?_"

As though reading his thoughts, the number of blinking lights on top of the computer began to increase and the system instantly sprang back to life from its long-term 'standby' mode. T'Pol's interest got the better of her, and she reached down with her gloved hands and ripped open a pocket on her space suit, breaking apart the transparent gel serving as its outer seal. She removed a handheld scanner from inside, along with a thin, cylindrical laser cutter. Activating the device, she waved it slowly back and forth before finally turning back toward the cavern entrance.

"_This is extremely interesting_. _We did not merely pass through a force field on our way in_," the Vulcan Subcommander promptly informed them. "_It appears to be a portal of some sort that transported us higher up toward the mountain top. I estimate that we are standing in an underground chamber only a few hundred meters from the mountain's peak._" She proceeded to scan the rest of the surrounding area. "_There is indeed a breathable atmosphere in here_. _If the need arises, it should be safe to remove our helmets and gloves_."

"_Hopefully, we won't be here long enough to require that_," Janeway commented. "_A prolonged stay is unnecessary – Captain Sisko and I can accomplish our task in minutes_." Her mood turned somewhat somber. "_I don't mean to interfere with your inquisitive nature, Subcommander_," she continued, "_but I'm afraid you're going to have to shut off that scanner immediately. In fact, I strongly suggest that you leave it behind when we're done here_."

"_Why?_" Phlox glanced back at her, clearly perplexed by her request.

Janeway waved a gloved hand in the general direction of the massive alien computer. "_That machine is running a sophisticated defensive system capable of wirelessly infiltrating and confusing alien hardware. Once it uploads data files into your scanner, everything else that your device comes into contact with will have its own software similarly infected. Trust me, a considerable number of lives have been lost because of this problem. Unless the uploaded programming recognizes friendly Iconian technology, the defensive subroutines automatically activate and will cause random, dangerous malfunctions. An entire starship was once lost because of this programming_."

"_What about weapons?_" Tucker pointed toward the supply cases. "_I brought along a couple of phase pistols, just in case we run into trouble_."

"_Fortunately, since we've reached our destination unchallenged, they won't be needed_," interjected Sisko. "_It's very possible that they won't work in here anyway… I guess we'll just have to stick to the basics on this mission_."

Archer had been paying close attention. "_What about the photonic warhead? The detonator attached to it relies on an electrical trigger_."

"_I strongly suggest that we tackle one problem at a time Captain_." Janeway moved toward the computer confidently, her trim, space-suited figure dwarfed by the rounded cone of consoles that encircled the system at ground level. A slender, cylindrical tube of metal emerged from its and reached upward for approximately one meter. Attached to its peak was a large, transparent sphere with a smaller, crackling blue globe of power sizzling at its center. Without a deliberate search or intensive scan, there was no way to determine whether or not it was the source of the computer's powerful energy supply.

Following her, Sisko nodded toward the brightly colored lights. "_I memorized the entire sequence too, just in case you have questions_."

His red-haired counterpart smiled in response. "_I learned to be a quick study during my years aboard_ Voyager," she told him firmly. "_Trust me… this process will go smoothly as long as we don't inadvertently trigger any of the computer's defensive programming. As a matter of fact, I'm going to do my best to shut down most of those functions_."

"_Captain_," said Tucker, his cautious nature once again getting the better of him. "_That looks to be a very powerful, alien computer system. How do we know that what they're going to do will actually _help_ us? I hate to sound like a paranoid stick in the mud, but if these two do something disastrous… well, it's hard for someone like me to just stand by without knowing the entire story_."

Moving to stand beside his Chief Engineer, Jonathan Archer placed his gloved hand on Tucker's left shoulder. "_I know what they're about to do, Trip_," he said reassuringly. "_Trust me… we need to let them do this thing_." He pointed toward the torpedo. "_Why don't you and T'Pol use her laser to break the seal on the supply cases? That way, you and Major Hayes can begin setting up the warhead's detonator_."

Currently the Subcommander was intently watching Janeway and Sisko. "_I think it is good that we have come here. If this technology ever fell into the hands of the Tholians…_" she trailed off, glancing sharply toward Archer with obvious Vulcan concern.

"_Yes_," nodded Janeway as she stepped up to the nearest computer console. "_It's a frightening thought, isn't it? This technology, in the hands of the Tholians, could devastate your future just as easily as the other threat Data warned you about. By sending us here he has basically offered Earth _two_ chances at a better future… I'd call that a pretty solid plan in _any_ century_."

Tucker nodded in acceptance. "_I hope you can understand why I just wanted to be certain_."

"_Of course_." Sisko smiled dryly.

Hoshi and Phlox had drifted forward slightly, and the Ensign pointed excitedly toward the portal on the left. "_That looks exactly like_ Earth!" she said suddenly, watching as the gateway shifted again and an image of San Francisco's golden gate bridge leaped sharply into focus. "_It _is_ Earth!_"

"_This system is capable of detecting and automatically translating humanoid neuro-transmitters_," continued Janeway informatively. "_It is quite literally extracting the locations of places that we are familiar with directly from our thoughts and cross-referencing them against its database of star maps. The computer's artificial intelligence will continue to display those locations randomly until we reset the software and gain full access. Once we are successful, we can quite literally choose wherever we want to go simply by bringing up a specific destination in one of these gateways_."

"_Go?_" Phlox's gaze shifted from the image of the golden gate bridge to Janeway, then back to the portal. Even as he watched the image shifted again and he could see another destination. "_Risa_," he gasped in recognition. "_Are you _seriously _trying to say that if I simply step through that doorway…_"

"…_you'll literally be walking on the beach again_," Archer finished for him. "_Are you starting to understand why the Iconians had a reputation for being 'spirits and ghosts'?_"

"_But we're nowhere near Risa_," the Doctor protested. "_We're _light_ years away from it, in fact. To accomplish what you're suggesting would take… well, it would take_…"

"…_a room full of alien technology?_" The smile on Janeway's face was almost triumphant – she was clearly enjoying Phlox's amazement. "_Relax Doctor, we won't ask you to take _that_ big a leap of faith. Once we're done here, we'll simply use one of the gateways and return to the shuttle_."

Hoshi caught on almost immediately. "_Captain Janeway, are you saying what I think you're saying?_" she grinned hopefully, remembering the powerful, fiery outside atmosphere.

"_That's right_," the _Voyager_ Captain replied with a light chuckle. "_Once we're done playing around in here, we're skipping the walk back to your shuttle pod!_"

* * *

It took Kathryn Janeway less than ten minutes to familiarize herself with the alien computer. "_Iconian systems are notorious for dealing with unauthorized intruders. That's why I would have much preferred to have my friend Seven of Nine here_," she commented warily, "_but so far so good_." Her helmet swung around briefly to face T'Pol. "_If you have another scanner, you should be able to safely make use of it now. I believe I have disabled all defensive functions, so we have full access. Destroy the other scanner or leave it behind – I am certain that its software has been contaminated_."

Tucker and Hayes had moved the photonic warhead next to the computer system and were working to attach the detonator to its matter/anti-matter pod. The Commander touched a keypad on the device and it instantly sprang to life, flashing friendly green and gold lights at them. "_Our stuff is working now too_," Tucker noted triumphantly. "_Well done, Captain_."

T'Pol set her scanner on the rocky floor next to her boots and then retreated several paces. Major Hayes handed her a phase pistol and she proceeded to use the weapon to completely vaporize the device. Then she knelt down next to one of the open supply cases and retrieved a second scanner. Activating it, she conducted a much more detailed study of the massive amount of power still emanating from the centralized equipment. "_The Iconian computer is consuming a great deal of energy_," she observed cautiously. "_Its level of usage has increased by more than one thousand percent since my initial scan_."

"_Believe me, Subcommander, what you are currently measuring is only the tip of the iceberg_," promised Janeway. "_Right now each portal is only displaying the _images_ from other worlds, relayed back to us through a microscopic wormhole. The system doesn't actually increase its power usage and widen the wormhole until someone physically steps through one of those doorways_."

"_Nevertheless, the increased output has grown sufficient in size for the Tholians to notice… they will be able to detect the increase, even through the force field barrier_."

"_Yes, that is why it is now in our best interests to work swiftly_." She began tapping a series of amber, blue, and red-colored indicators in a predetermined sequence. "_I'm activating a temporal beacon that our good friend Data should be able to detect and follow through subspace_."

In front of the north portal, Data's isomorphic image suddenly appeared. Although everyone by now was fully aware that he was using a projection of a physical body, the android still appeared out of place amidst all of the space-suited people surrounding him. "_Your work thus far has been excellent Captain Janeway_," Data told her, walking slowly over to stand beside her. "_This facility has reached deep into subspace, and I was able to trace its signal even without the accompanying beacon_."

The female starship Captain shrugged indifferently. "_So far, I've entered everything you wanted me to, just like we rehearsed while aboard the_ Relativity," she told him, waving casually toward the glowing console in front of her. "_Would you like to take over for me?_"

"_Unfortunately I cannot, on this occasion, interact with the technology in this environment_," the android responded. "_I will need you to physically key in the final sequence for me. Please do so right away_."

The _Voyager_ Captain nodded, accepting his response without question. She reached out and touched the lighted console with her gloved fingers. "_Ready_." Pausing for a moment to mentally review the proper sequence, Janeway began to enter the remaining commands needed to accomplish the rest of her mission. "_The first sequence is red, red, amber, blue, red, blue, amber, amber_," she stated crisply, pressing the colored buttons – one by one – on the triangular keypad. "_The second set is blue, blue, red, amber, red, blue, amber, amber, blue…_"

Standing nearby, Benjamin Sisko was busy watching Janeway continue her work for Data, but he was not so focused that he failed to notice Hoshi Sato move closer to him. "_Is something on your mind Ensign?_" he asked her.

"_Yes_," she responded truthfully. "_What exactly is it they are doing?_"

The Deep Space Nine Captain smiled at her. "_What we are dealing with is an extremely complicated matter_," he told her. "_And unfortunately, we Captains – regardless of what time frame we live in – take an oath that prevents us from revealing classified data. However, with that said…_" He paused, thinking through his next words carefully before continuing. "_Data and Captain Janeway are searching for what is commonly known to time travelers as a 'pentatonic scale'_."

Both Hoshi and Phlox appeared puzzled by his response. "_Pentatonic scale?_" Doctor Phlox repeated the words while moving closer to join the conversation. "_Isn't that a musical term?_"

"_Normally. I understand the general concept of what they are doing because I myself have had the opportunity to conduct long-term studies around a stable wormhole. In this case, the term 'pentatonic scale' references a five dimensional set of coordinates._"

"_Five dimensions?_" Exhaling with frustration, Hoshi smiled almost shyly at her lack of understanding. "_Captain, my specialty is linguistics… I'm not really a scientist_."

"_You don't have to be. Think of it this way. The Iconian facility we are currently standing in uses the settings we're looking for as markers to identify this specific location – they are hard-coded somewhere deep inside the central computer. The system relies on the five dimensional coordinate set and uses the data to anchor each wormhole and thereby 'lock in' the exact location for this side of each subspace tunnel. In order to continue to assist us with his plans to save your future, Data needs to know that set of numbers_." Sisko mulled the matter over silently for a moment before speaking further. "_I must confess that I don't totally understand everything myself at this point. The power Data possesses from his vantage point within subspace is considerable… it genuinely surprised me to discover that he needed our help in order to obtain the information stored here_."

"_And once we have those numbers, we're just going to blow everything up?_"

"_Unfortunately we have no other option. The Tholians could use these gateways for military purposes… to place troops or destructive devices on any world they choose to attack. The existence of this site here on this planet is a grave threat to all peaceful civilizations_."

"_I think it's a shame that interstellar politics is the vehicle forcing us to sacrifice all of this wondrous technology so casually_," decided Phlox. "_After all, how often will we have the opportunity to interact with ancient devices like these – equipment that allows us to instantaneously cross the galaxy? I can only imagine what it must be like to step through one of these doorways and end up standing on the surface of some strange new world. It's a wondrous opportunity that demands further study._"

"_Starfleet will have two additional opportunities to interact with Iconian facilities such as this one_," declared Sisko. "_Unfortunately, neither location is within a reasonable range of your starship's warp five engine. That is why Data needed you to bring us to the Tholian system… why he asked you to move forward through time. This is the closest surviving Iconian installation, and he needed the fastest Starfleet vessel available in order to accomplish that objective_."

Continuing to work with the photonic warhead, Tucker listened curiously before glancing up sharply. "_Well everyone knows that I've been as doubtful as anyone about all this, but I'll admit when I'm wrong. Data's tactical information proved to be as accurate as promised. We literally marched right through the entire Tholian defense force without firing a shot_."

Sisko chuckled in response to the Commander's comments. "_Well here's hoping that the Tholian fleet remains preoccupied for another few hours,_" he declared thoughtfully._ "We're going to need to move_ Enterprise _back through their territory in order to return to friendly space_."

As they continued to visit, Kathryn Janeway worked steadily, inputting each series of commands as provided to her by Data. Eventually she reached the final sequence, and the colored, blinking lights on the computer consoles increased their intensity. Finally, the red, blue and amber lights disappeared completely and the system lost power. There was a loud electronic clicking noise and the triangular panel she had been working with popped open. Janeway was unable to open it further using her gloved hands, so she briefly walked over to one of the supply cases and retrieved a small metal tool.

"_I took great care and memorized the entire sequence, but it still required a significant effort to remember all of that_," she stated in mild protest. "_Red, blue, amber… are you telling me that we had to go through all of that nonsense simply to open this panel?_"

"_Yes_." Data watched her pry open the access port, moving closer as she removed the metallic black console cover. As expected, he could see a lengthy string of alien characters printed on the silver metal beneath in the odd scrawl of the long dead, Iconian language. "_After referencing Preserver records, I have learned that the Iconians made use of a simpler, color coded system as a final barrier to confuse any intruder intelligent enough to translate their language. The sequence printed on the red, blue and amber buttons – while they are powered up – is not the correct one. Only another Iconian would know this and ignore the printed instructions on the console's surface. Anyone else – including my own ancestor – tend to fall for the trick and assume they have complete access simply because they have deciphered the symbols_."

She stepped back to let him take a better look at the peculiar characters. "_These symbols would appear to be your pentatonic scale. The Iconians no doubt printed them on top of the hardware just to be safe, in case the internal data node was damaged. I don't believe we will need to remove anything else_."

The android's projection bent over the console, allowing Data to instantly memorize the entire set of numbers. Then he turned toward the _Enterprise_ crew and their expectant faces. "_This has been excellent work by all of you. Captain Archer, you and your crew have my sincere gratitude… I could not have accomplished this difficult task without you_."

His projection backed away from the computer and allowed Janeway to carefully fit the console top back in place. As soon as it snapped firmly shut the console's power returned, relighting the red, blue and amber indicators and the strange, alien language inscribed on them. Once she was satisfied that everything was once again operating normally, she approached a supply case and removed a second laser cutter. Using the lightest setting, she proceeded to cut through the hardened, transparent gel protecting her EVA suit. Then she removed her gloves and tossed them on the floor. In her right hand the thin, cylindrical tricorder she had brought with her from the future glistened in the dim lighting.

"_What's the next step?_" asked Archer curiously.

To his left, T'Pol was busy using her own tools to cut off samples of the alien metal. Beside her on the floor, another scanner was busily whirring away and recording everything – especially the energy signatures generated by the wormholes that anchored the Tholian side of the three portals. The edges of each shimmered with mild distortion, but the center images remained crystal clear… as perfect as the view through any clean window. "_I could use some more time to study all of this_," she pointed out.

Data's gaze shifted toward Captain Archer. "_You have fulfilled all of the objectives I set for you and assisted me in obtaining all of the information that I require._" He paused, glancing next toward Commander Tucker and Major Hayes. "_Set your warhead timer and then return immediately to the shuttle pod. The Tholians will detect the increased power output from this complex and launch an investigation, if they are not already on their way._"

"_Sorry T'Pol, but it looks like you're going to have to wrap things up_." Archer shrugged his shoulders helplessly and then nodded sharply toward Tucker. "_Set the timer and prepare to activate it Trip_."

"_Aye aye, sir. We're just about ready_."

Data returned his attention to Janeway and the Iconian computer. "_Captain, can you align one of the portals with the interior of your shuttle pod?_"

"_Affirmative. I have the coordinates stored in my portable tricorder_." She returned to the active console and began inputting another rapid series of commands. The north gateway's image shimmered briefly and then refocused sharply on a very familiar sight – the interior of their planned ride home. "_Done_," she replied confidently. "_I have deactivated the auto-shifting process and stabilized the gateway on both ends, so we don't have to worry about it changing unexpectedly on us and sending us somewhere we would rather not be_."

"_Leave as soon as possible_," the android cautioned them. "_That will give you your best chance at returning safely to Federation space_." His isomorphic body faded to a transparent state for a brief second and then disappeared completely.

"_That's it?_" Tucker was bent over the warhead, but he stood up suddenly. "This_ is what we've all risked our lives for… a stupid set of numbers?_"

"_This is only the first step – a very important one – toward something much, much larger_," confirmed Archer, smiling at his doubtful engineer. "_Set the warhead for five minutes. That will give us plenty of time to evacuate. As far as the supplies go, leave behind everything non-essential_." He walked slowly past the console and paused directly in front of the north gateway. The image within the portal was now clearly depicting the interior of their shuttle pod as though a camera had been placed on the helm console. All of the extra supplies, including the oxygen synthesizer, were still stacked along the rear bulkhead… exactly as he remembered them.

"_An impressive display of technology, isn't it?_" This time it was Janeway who smiled wryly.

"_If I step through this, it will instantly transport me back aboard our shuttle?_" Archer asked her with growing curiously.

The _Voyager_ Captain nodded affirmatively. "_Each of us must go through, one by one. Once you do, move immediately to the rear of the pod. Fortunately for us, the system is intelligent enough to prevent us from transporting on top of one another… However, it won't allow the next person to enter until those who travel through first move out of the way_."

Archer paused for a moment to think matters through and then ordered everyone else to begin evacuating. "_Trip and I will go last_," he told the others. "_We'll make certain the warhead is counting down properly and then join you_."

T'Pol was obviously the most disappointed of anybody, but she promptly gathered together the samples she had collected – including pieces of rock from one of the mountainous cavern walls.

_Slowly, one by one, the members of the mission team stepped through the Iconian gateway and returned to their shuttle_.

* * *

_Columbus_ Mission, Tholian Detention Center, Alpha Quadrant

* * *

James T. Kirk paused in the shaky, makeshift walkway that comprised the temporary Tholian airlock next to the open _Columbus_ shuttle hatch. His weight caused the short, six meter enclosed tunnel to sway back and forth even after he stopped moving. Glancing up through the transparent fabric stretched across the ceiling, he paused for a moment to study the glittering orange strands of energy webbing surrounding the captured ships in orbit above. The _Enterprise_ was closest to them, and its massive frame looked abnormally dark and vulnerable without the normal warp power needed to sustain its vital systems and fully light its exterior hull. As he had hoped, the bright white running lights were using battery power and blinking normally – a key necessity that he had at first intended to take full advantage of.

The Captain promptly changed his mind, something that didn't happen very often. At the time he had set up the prearranged plan to communicate via use of morse code, there hadn't been a lot to talk about. _'Are you ready?'_ would have been his first question, followed – he hoped – by a simple reply… something like '_Ready when you are sir'_. Now things were much different and he knew much more about the alien detention facility. Thus Kirk made the decision to speak firsthand with his senior officers aboard the _Enterprise_. He paused in the walkway for another few seconds, and then reversed course back toward the Tholian airlock. His intention was to locate Dr. McCoy and let him know about his change of plan. The Captain now intended to take the _Columbus_ all the way back to the _Enterprise_ for a short time, taking him temporarily out of contact with his away team.

The airlock door opened and Kirk nearly ran into Montgomery Scott. Behind him, another red-shirted crewman followed close behind. Astonished by the unexpected presence of more people from his ship, a familiar grin of recognition crossed his face. "_Scotty!_" he exclaimed almost triumphantly. "It's good to see you… I trust you're not shirking your responsibilities in order to gain a few hours of shore leave."

The dark-haired Chief of Engineering chuckled. "I would na'er even consider it sir," he replied proudly. "Mr. Spock and I have made significant progress, and he felt that your plan to use morse code would only slow us down during a time when moving swiftly is crucial to our success. So, crewman Michaels and I hopped aboard the _Galileo II_ and came down to provide you with an update. I saw Mr. Chekov inside the Tholian base, and he told us where you were docked."

"As far as the morse code plan goes, I came to a similar conclusion myself," Kirk nodded firmly. "Mr. Spock has also reminded us, on occasion, that only _bad_ plans are never subject to change." Waving a hand toward the _Columbus_ hatch, he smiled warmly. "Why don't you two join me for a conference?"

Scotty was extremely eager to talk, and he began providing his Captain with information as soon as the three of them were seated inside the shuttle. "The TR- series of weapons that we provided you with really got us thinking down in Engineering," he told Kirk. "One of the lads mischievously asked me if I had a cannon or two stored somewhere, and that kind of talk ended up inspiring us in all sorts of ways."

Intrigued, Kirk leaned forward. "Explain," he requested briskly.

Crewman Michaels opened a small case that he was carrying. Inside of it were a series of detailed color photographs, but Michaels instead removed a small chunk of what looked like black concrete. "Remember the temporary roads we were building at the Riga colony during our most recent assignment?" he asked. "This is the material that we were using. It's called 'Sweet 7', short for SWT7 – and is essentially a combination of simulated asphalt and concrete. After it is mixed with plain water, this substance fully hardens and cures within a matter of hours."

Accepting the sample, Kirk examined it carefully. "A projectile?" He shook his head with obvious dismay. "Scotty, you're not telling me that you've got an actual, functional _cannon_ up there, are you?"

"No sir," grinned Scotty in response. "We've got something even better… our torpedo launchers."

The Captain listened to the two men with growing interest. "Okay… so we make use of the launchers," he mused. "But firing this substance out of them would require _battery_ power… and a _lot_ of it. How do you know that shooting this stuff at the Tholians will accomplish anything meaningful? Unless we have no choice, I'd rather not use up what little power we have left. The crew won't last very long without functional life support systems, and I'd rather not make this place our permanent home."

Scotty handed Kirk several photographs from Michaels' case – close up displays of the web strand contact points on the Tholian starships. "We don't have to fire _anything_ until the final seconds before the lads and I complete a cold restart on our warp drive. In less than five minutes, we can have warp power fully restored. The launchers will never use up what's left in the batteries before we get a fresh supply of energy flowing."

"It's a very interesting concept, and I would agree that the simplest way to tackle a problem is usually the _best_ way." Kirk studied the photographs, one by one. Each Tholian vessel apparently utilized a slender, cylindrical probe extending outward just far enough to keep the powerful web strands from damaging its hull. "As Mr. Spock would say, these are quite fascinating." He flipped slowly through the rest of them, noticing that the web technology was exactly the same on each of the photographed enemy ships. A long, tapering tip extended out from an open port on all of them, obviously the key device used to control the collection and disbursement of multiple energy strands.

"Without sensors we can't confirm for certain, but Mr. Spock believes – based on visual evidence – that each ship generates up to six primary web filaments along with the smaller, secondary and tertiary strings. This probe has dozens of alternating collector and transmitter ports, some of which accept the streaming energy from other ships while others relay them on to other probes participating in the link. The whole thing is an astonishingly simple design that allows multiple ships to quickly put in place a large, complex web. We've seen firsthand just how devastating this field can be when used in combination with their dampening field. Unless we can do something significant and simultaneously nullify both energy fields, the _Enterprise_ will remain totally under Tholian control."

Kirk studied the dark black rock in his hand. "I see your point The photon launchers could accelerate this stuff almost instantly to a velocity of several kilometers per second," he nodded, beginning to understand. "_If_ we could get it through the web, the impact of this substance against partially shielded hulls would be devastating. At minimum, it would knock their ships around, throwing their web system completely out of alignment…"

"With respect sir, we can do even better than that," promised Scotty, sorting through the printed photographs until he found a particular, telescopic close-up of the cylindrical web relay system. "All evidence to date indicates that our projectiles can safely travel _between_ the web strands – it's only when an object comes in actual physical contact with them that it becomes damaged." The engineer was clearly elated by the results of his analysis. "Michaels and I chose this particular substance because it doesn't burn easily. The Tholian web may slice apart some of our torpedoes or even scorch the outer surface, but it won't significantly reduce the speed of the separated pieces or the force of their impact. You wanted a way to disrupt their web, sir, and I firmly believe this will do the job."

"Nice work Scotty… _very_ nice."

"That's n' all sir," he continued. "While you've been down here, we've been mixing together everything we have left. We poured it into plastic barrels and then stuffed a fistful of conventional explosive into the center of each. Once it dries, all we have left to do is attach proximity detectors that can be armed from Chekov's weapons console the instant they're fired. All we have to do is load the final, hardened product into standard photon cases and they'll be even better than simple projectiles. We can detonate some of them at the edge of the web shield, throwing rocky chunks of debris in all directions." He chuckled with obvious pride. "The lads in engineering are already calling them 'sweet potatoes'."

Considering Mr. Scott's words carefully, Kirk nodded slowly in acknowledgement. "That _will_ definitely wreak havoc with a web shield," he admitted finally. "What about the dampening field… how do we defeat that very important matter?"

Scotty leaned back in his seat, taking a deep breath while mentally reviewing his response. "Like the web, the strength of the field relies primarily on the number of ships available to power it. Mr. Spock stayed behind to isolate key ships in the network surrounding us. Those will be the targets we hit first, along with vessels that aren't damaged when the web is thrown out of alignment. And trust me Captain, once we knock some of those ships on the proverbial noggin, their own web will cause all kinds of chaos with their systems. The Tholians will have no choice but to divert power to their shields in order to avoid catastrophic damage. Once they do that, large sections of their defenses will come down."

Kirk was silent for some time as he mentally reviewed the plan. "I like it. Is that all?"

"Not quite. We're planning on timing everything so that warp power returns just as the dampening field begins to deteriorate. That will allow us to beam up the civilians from the detention facility. After that, it'll be a standard, toe-to-toe fist fight. The only remaining variable is the question of whether or not we can escape before one of those enemy ships damages us enough to interfere with warp drive." The Engineer smiled proudly. "Once we're underway, the _Enterprise_ will be able to outrun and out maneuver _anything_ the Tholians throw at us. I'd bet a year's pay on that."

"I would too." The _Enterprise_ Captain studied Scotty and Michaels thoughtfully. "Okay," he continued after a pause. "You've convinced me that there are lots of pros to this plan. So let me play devil's advocate for a moment. Are there any cons?"

Scott chuckled. "A few. No matter how you slice it, Captain, we're only going to get _one_ shot at this. If we fail to disable their networks – _both_ the web and energy dampener – they'll be able to put us out of their misery with very little effort. When you issue the final order to proceed, we're going to need _everyone_ to execute flawlessly."

"We knew even before we entered Tholian space that the risk would be high," Kirk pointed out. "For me the risk is perfectly acceptable… I believe in our people. Is there anything else that I should know?"

"Aye." Nodding slowly, Scotty held up the photograph with the closest visual of the Tholian's web relay probe. It showed the oval-shaped rows and rows of collection and transmission ports in flawless detail, but it was the base of the device – the spot where one end connected to the enemy ship – that the Engineer pointed to next. "Do you see the clamps at the base of this beastie, holding it tightly in place?" he asked the Captain curiously. "Mr. Spock believes there is only _one_ reason for these to be present."

Kirk was momentarily confused, but not enough to avoid speculation. "At this point I'm only guessing. However, if someone attempted to do what we're about to do, I would think that the Tholians would want a way to eject the probe away from their ship. A network thrown out of alignment would present a threat to all vessels in the area. The capability to fire these devices out of range would keep any redirected web strands well away from friendly vessels."

"That was my initial assessment as well Captain." Scotty sighed heavily, pausing before delivering his next statement. "Although his conclusions are based solely on observation, Mr. Spock has concluded that each probe contains a highly efficient _battery_," he noted, watching Kirk's surprised expression. "If the Tholians consider a vessel to be a major threat, he believes that these devices can be ejected toward the vessel trapped in the center of a web. In other words, the software in the ejected, drifting probes would essentially take over management of the network and the entire web confinement field thus becomes _self sustaining_ while it collapses."

The Captain considered the Engineer's words carefully. "Well we certainly can't allow that to happen. We need to disable our targets as quickly as possible… unless they damage each other there will be too many of them for us to conduct a successful escape."

"With respect, that's n' my point sir," Scotty corrected. "If the Tholians get wind of what we're doing and decide to destroy us, this is the best way. As a self-sustaining web collapses in size, its shrinking strands become more and more powerful. If the Tholians make a determination that the _Enterprise_ is a threat to them, they'll be able to destroy us in a matter of _seconds_. Even if we manage to get full shields back on-line, they'll never be able to repel that kind of attack. Our hull will be cut to shreds and our engine core destabilized."

"Message received and understood." Kirk held up a pair of fingers for emphasis. "That leaves me with two remaining questions. One… How confident are you that the cold restart of our engines – essentially a controlled implosion of matter and anti-matter – will in fact succeed? I realize you've done the procedure once before at Psi 2000, but it's still a very risky, unreliable process."

"Captain…" Scotty looked at his commanding officer with sincere amusement. "I've done this before… it's no longer just a theory on paper to me. Trust me, I'll handle the mixture manually and we'll have main power back on-line in plenty of time to catch the Tholians by surprise."

"Okay." Kirk shifted his gaze to Michaels. "Number two on my list: Crewman Michaels, I need an objective opinion from you."

The young man looked up sharply, caught by surprise at the unexpected attention. "Sir?"

"Mr. Scott is known for enthusiastically endorsing anything I decide to do," the Captain stated factually. "Therefore I need you to offer me a different perspective." He glanced upward through the open shuttlecraft windows toward the glittering orange web shield in place above their position. "Put yourself in the minds of the Tholian engineers for a moment. If you suddenly detected a captured enemy battle cruiser attempting to reactivate its engines, what would _you_ do? What would _you_ tell your Captain?"

Caught somewhat by surprise, Michaels thought about his answer much longer than he expected. Finally, he cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing uneasily toward Scotty. "Speak your mind lad," the Chief Engineer told him brusquely.

"I think the Tholians will lean toward over-confidence," decided Michaels. He waved a hand toward the windows. "They've got an entire fleet surrounding us, and most of them are used to dealing with the civilians trapped here." He shook his head with contempt, remembering the treatment of prisoners he had observed firsthand during his walk through the station's prisoner ring. "It goes without saying that the crews from a lot of the other captured ships no doubt attempted to restart their engines too. If I were a Tholian, I would tell my commander to let the humanoids waste their time. As long as they're confident that we can't break their defenses, why would they concern themselves with engines that will remain powerless even if they're successfully restarted?" He laughed sharply. "They'll consider us to be just as helpless as the civilians so long as their dampening field retains power."

"Yes, that makes logical sense," said Kirk confidently. "All right then. Let's do this… let's get to work setting up an overall timetable and then get the hell out of here."

"Aye Captain," Scott agreed. "We're with y' all the way."

Together the three of them continued working for well over another hour, laying out a specific plan of attack. Shortly after, Kirk's communicator beeped abruptly for attention. The Captain removed it from his belt and expertly flipped it open. "Kirk here."

"_This is Sulu. All spyware devices have been deployed_."

"That's good to know Lieutenant," said Kirk gratefully. "How did things go?"

"_Completely as expected sir. The entire outer ring contains a Tholian atmosphere, so I have a few brief images on video. Other than that, the cameras were lost almost instantly to the interior heat_."

"Understood. Return to the _Columbus_ as soon as possible and reposition yourself between the lower nacelles for the trip home. We're returning to the _Enterprise_ very soon, and when we do all hell is going to break loose."

"_Acknowledged Captain. Sore knees won't keep me away from the helm_."

He was about to close the communications device when it beeped again. "_McCoy to Captain Kirk_."

"This is Kirk. What can I do for you Doctor?"

"_We've got a situation developing here Jim. One of the doors leading to the center of this complex just opened. The Tholians made an announcement over an intercom and are demanding that two people go in there within the next ten minutes. If we don't comply with their deadline, they've promised to increase the number to four_."

"I'll be right there Bones... stand by." The Captain closed the communicator and nodded confidently toward Scotty and Crewman Michaels. "You two take the _Galileo_ back to _Enterprise_ immediately. Allow Mr. Spock to review our plan and make any adjustments he deems are necessary. When we're done here, our team will follow you up in the _Columbus_ and I'll sign off on the final plan."

"If I may ask sir, what will _you_ be up to?" wondered Scotty curiously.

Kirk hefted the TR-110 rifle and stood up. "I'm going inside that open doorway," he promised heatedly. "I want to know what the Tholians are doing to our people in there."

* * *

Shuttle Pod One, Orbiting the Tholian Home World, July 28, 2268

* * *

By the time the photonic warhead detonated, Ensign Mayweather had already piloted the shuttle pod out of orbit. Once again he was navigating solely by computer, but at Archer's prodding he left a single, subtle sensor pulse temporarily peeking aft as they rocketed back in the general direction of the system's central star. Only minutes after they passed back out into open space, a circular shock wave erupted from inside the cavern they had just visited – a detonation that was only two hundred fifty meters from the mountain's peak. The warhead blew off the entire top – it rose noticeably on the sensor map before falling slowly back toward the planet's surface below. Idly, Mayweather wondered what the blast must have looked like to the approaching Tholians. Even on instruments, the explosion proved to be an impressive display.

"Mission accomplished sir," Mayweather pointed out.

Standing next to him, Captain Archer nodded and turned to face Janeway and Sisko. "That's it," he informed them. "The Iconian installation is history." Turning back to Mayweather, he placed a comforting hand on Travis' shoulder. "_Stay_ with the civilian traffic," he suggested softly. "Even if you detect military signals in the commercial lanes, stick close to the merchant ships. The Tholians will be watching _everything_ in this system much more closely now, looking for anomalous signals."

Mayweather took a deep breath and nodded, exhaling slowly.

_Nudging the shuttle gradually past the sun, he angled them on course back toward _Enterprise.


	13. The Die Is Cast

_**Author's Notes: **__The title of this Chapter reflects the "DS9" episode entitled "The Die Is Cast". If my memory is accurate, I was in Middle School before I learned the correct terms for those little cubes we regularly shook in Monopoly – YES, there are different references! Specifically, two = "dice" and only one of them = "die". I think many folks still unknowingly refer to a "die" as "dice" even if there is only one. It was a trivial matter, but one that stuck in my memory for some odd reason. So when I first saw the "DS9" episode, I immediately knew the writers were paying attention, because they used the term correctly. Intrigued, I researched the matter a little further, and – according to Wikipedia – the entire episode title itself is a phrase that has a rather interesting background. As usual, if you want to understand Star Trek, you have to read history with a large dose of Shakespeare!!!_

_In ancient Rome, no one was allowed to bring troops across the river "Rubicon" for obvious reasons. The Roman Senate was traditionally staffed with a very paranoid group, after all, and they knew full well that anyone who successfully commanded troops in battle would build up a great deal of loyalty. Therefore the military commanders were historically expected to stop just short of marching across the Rubicon in northern Italy as a sign of respect and allegiance to the civilian government._

_Julius Caesar changed all that. When he crossed the Rubicon, "the die was cast" and Rome passed a point of no return. Everyone knew that his intention was to take over the government. Thus the phrase "the die is cast" applies to this chapter as well. We do have a "point of no return" here, although not all of the events will be completely explained until later Chapters. I firmly continue to believe that any good story must have its waters muddied for at least a little while. When those waters clear, the revelations that follow usually make everything well worth the wait.

* * *

_

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**The Die Is Cast

* * *

**

Delta Quadrant, February 25, 2154, Aboard the _U.S.S. Relativity

* * *

_

On the large viewscreen in front of him, Captain Ducane watched the smug, confident image of Dr. Tolian Soran closely. Aside from a hint of fatigue in the man's expression, Ducane at first detected no visible signs that the man had ceased taking regular doses of vital medication. Then he shifted his viewpoint to the scientist's eyes, and he could quite literally see the mental anguish lurking there… pain that his adversary had endured during his ongoing bout with anxiety and depression. Soran was in a manic state of mind, a condition that had driven and controlled his behavior for decades. He had found some peace for a short while living in the distant future, before the anger burning deep within him had flared back to life and prompted him to act.

_The Preservers had trusted him with the very technology he needed to exact his revenge._

"I know you are determined to prevent the Borg from exterminating your family, among other things," stated Ducane calmly. Behind him, Jean-Luc Picard, James Kirk and Frank Roberts waited patiently. "However, I would like to officially request that we first retreat to a safe location and hold a brief conference… if only to allow me to better understand your point of view."

"_And what would_ that _accomplish?_" asked Soran distrustfully. "_I believe I have already made my point of view crystal clear regarding this matter_."

Ducane took a deep breath and paused, ordering his thoughts carefully so as not to trigger the scientist's infamous temper. "There is more than one way to accomplish your objective," the Captain informed him. "For one thing, many of the drones you plan to kill are _themselves_ victims of the Borg."

"_I already know that_."

"Then you should also know that there are ways to separate those drones from the Collective and grant them the same freedoms you want for your own people," continued Ducane cautiously. "We have developed such a method, and would like to transmit the data to you." He noticed the image of the _Thraex_'s bridge shudder repeatedly as it continued to endure an all out assault from the nearby Borg vessel. "All we need to do is withdraw from this area, leave this Borg cube behind, and arrange a rendezvous somewhere else. The Temporal Integrity Commission that I serve is well aware of what will happen if we start a war here in the past. Other races will notice, and others will scan our technology."

The Doctor cocked his head suspiciously to one side and leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "_Are you actually_ expecting _me to allow you to_ stall _for time, Captain?_" he asked cynically, his gaze shifting past Ducane and toward his former colleagues standing nearby. "_How many additional Timeships are currently en route to help you stop me?_"

"Zero," Ducane replied truthfully. "If you've learned anything about time travel, then you're fully aware of how easy it would be for a larger presence to inadvertently trigger a catastrophe. Even time travelers with innocent intentions can cause just as much trouble with their mere presence as would result from deliberate tampering." The lines of his face had hardened over the years, adding a noticeable level of maturity to his boyish features. The Captain remained firm and emotionally controlled, although his outward demeanor appeared surprisingly relaxed. "I swear on my Captain's honor that I am not attempting to deceive you. I sincerely want to establish a dialogue and review alternative possibilities."

On the viewscreen a tall, black silhouette of a man had been standing quietly next to the Doctor. The unusual looking alien leaned down for a moment and whispered something. Soran nodded at his colleague and refocused his attention on his viewscreen. "_We too have been reviewing options and are in the process of deciding just _who_ in the Collective deserves ultimate punishment_," he stated bluntly. "_The Krell scientists aboard this vessel have also developed a method of liberating assimilated drones; therefore our mission does not require your involvement in order to succeed_."

"I realize that you have many resources at your disposal Doctor," admitted Ducane diplomatically, his tone betraying no trace of frustration. "I was hoping that you would examine matters from our perspective. _We_ require _your_ involvement in order to protect as many innocent lives as possible in all four Quadrants of this galaxy. There must be a way for us to mutually…"

"_You really_ are _trying to negotiate a truce, aren't you?_" asked Soran, interrupting the Captain in mid-sentence. "_And just what, may I ask, do _you_ have to offer that I myself do not currently possess?_" The surrounding bridge shook again, but the El Aurian imperiously folded his arms together in front of him and completely ignored the attacking Borg. His smile was dripping with undisguised condescension. "_In short, Ducane, I would really like to know… what is in this for me?_"

"This would be an unprecedented opportunity…"

For the second time in less than a minute, Ducane failed to finish a sentence. The bridge of the Timeship _Relativity_ suddenly shook violently and pitched sharply to starboard. The Captain himself completely lost his footing and would have slammed hard against the bulkhead just below the starboard walkway, but Frank Roberts reacted instantly and latched firmly onto him with a grip of steel. The Data-Class android also managed to efficiently corral both Kirk and Picard with his other arm. Nevertheless, Ducane's respite was a brief one. Lt. Commander Ingram – wheeled chair and all – slammed into him, followed only seconds later by an out of control Ensign Murry. Shouts of pain and surprise filled the bridge – almost immediately thereafter the ship's red alert klaxon activated automatically and began to blare loudly in response to the unexpected turbulence. The bridge lighting dimmed noticeably, and the surrounding darkness was broken up briefly every second or two by bright flashes of red from the strategically positioned alert beacons.

"What the devil was that?" James Kirk asked grimly. He was momentarily pinned against the wall, just beneath the upper walkway, along with the rest of them. "I was under the impression that this ship's shields could deflect just about anything." Roberts released him and he stepped forward tentatively.

Ingram noticed the concern in his eyes. "I don't know," she replied apprehensively. "Give me a second and I'll use the sensors to scan the immediate vicinity." She waited briefly for Ensign Murry to untangle herself and then scooted her chair back toward the sensor station.

Picard's eyes flashed insistently. "Is it the Borg?" he asked. "Have they switched targets?"

The alert klaxon abruptly quieted, but the subdued lighting and flashing red lights remained… obvious reminders of their newly activated alert status. "I don't think so," stated Ingram. She dropped her eyes toward the sensor console, not at all liking what she saw there. The young blonde woman tapped the Comm-link and opened the ship wide all-call. "All hands. Brace yourselves… the _Relativity_ has struck an energy barrier of some sort, and the crisis isn't over. Whatever hit us is moving rapidly through our superstructure." The sound of her electronically enhanced voice reverberated throughout all of the ship's cabins and corridors.

A loud, crackling electrical snapping sound drew everyone's attention toward the upper walkway. Most of the on-duty personnel standing there stepped away from the starship's centralized computer control systems and retreated toward the safety railing. Their instinctive reactions saved them from almost certain injury as each of the consoles built into the wall suddenly sprayed out hot sparks, gray smoke and fire. A wall of blue fire emerged, linking floor to ceiling, appearing at first glance to be a force field of some sort. The barrier moved rapidly from the starboard side of the bridge toward the port bulkhead. Two seconds after its appearance, the energy field passed harmlessly _through_ the crewmen and women at the railing and continued sliding steadily toward the Captain and the others standing with him.

As a group, Ducane and the others hastily backed away from the unexpected phenomenon as it continued its advance directly toward the port bulkhead. "_Hold on!_" shouted the _Relativity_ Captain in utter astonishment, helplessly watching the shimmering ripples swiftly approaching them. They had already moved as far away as the bridge would allow – now they stood quietly and waited patiently to see what would happen next.

The energy surge was only centimeters thick, and it crossed the bridge on a path directly toward the members of the command team. It was translucent – visually its appearance mirrored an electronic simulation of water – and sparkled with an azure color sufficiently dark enough to blur Ducane's vision. He was far from blinded, however – the crackling energy barrier was not quite opaque enough to prevent him from seeing his unharmed crewmen still manning the upper walkway.

Ingram also saw it coming and promptly kicked outward with her feet, making effective use of her chair to wheel backwards, spinning away from her station and toward the port bulkhead. This time it was the Lt. Commander who crashed into Ensign Murry, and by the time the two women untangled themselves for a second time the unknown energy surge was already upon them. Ducane could literally see the bones through the skin of his left hand and his body tingled ominously from the enormous power that momentarily engulfed him. A soft, golden aura temporarily surrounded his body… then the surge passed by them and vanished into the port wall.

For a moment everyone hesitated, waiting to see what if anything else was going to happen. When nothing new appeared, Ducane sprang instantly to action. "Damage report," he demanded tersely, snapping everyone on the bridge back to full attention. "I want to know what kind of weapon that was and which enemy target fired it at us."

Murry and Ingram wheeled their chairs instantly back toward helm and navigation, where both ladies promptly began working furiously to obey his order. "I _don't_ think that was a weapon sir," Ingram replied after a moment. "It was an energy barrier of some sort, something that appeared out of nowhere. We drifted right into it… it passed completely through the ship and then exited out of our port hull. It appears to have also struck the other ships in the area and then just disappeared."

"Primary power was disrupted for a moment too sir," reported Murry, tight-lipped with concern. "Everything appears to be working fine now, with the exception of communications. I've lost our temporal link with the starship _Hillyer_ in the 29th century."

Ducane sighed heavily. "Reestablish communications immediately, Ensign. That's our connection with home… we need to keep relaying ship's logs and updated telemetry."

"I'm trying," she countered, fingers dancing across the console in front of her. "There's nothing to receive sir… it appears as though they've simply stopped transmitting on their end."

"Why would they do that?" ventured Picard. "That doesn't make sense."

Beside him, Frank Roberts stepped forward. "If your people up top will allow me to access Commander Ingram's subspace link, I will access the Preserver network and try and get some answers for you."

The Captain waved the android on, watching him briskly trot up the stairs toward the starboard walkway. "Casualties?" Ducane asked with obvious concern.

Ingram studied the incoming reports from all decks before responding. "Nothing serious Captain," she stated positively, smiling with renewed confidence. "A few crewmen are reporting mild electric shocks, but other than that we appear to have been fortunate."

"_Mild?_" Picard tugged at the lower edge of his light brown civilian shirt. "There wasn't anything mild about any of that. What exactly did we pass through?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Ingram took a tentative breath. "I don't know," she continued. "At this point the sensors are only reporting what happened aboard ship… they don't appear to have even detected the unknown we passed through." Beside her, red lights began flashing on the tactical console. Her eyes glanced downward. "Uh oh," she commented idly.

"Jessica…" Ducane trailed off only briefly. "Report facts please. Tell us what you see."

She shook her head with disbelief. "Sensors are only detecting _two_ contacts out there now… the _Thraex_ and the Xindi sphere. At this time, there's absolutely no trace of the Borg cube."

The Captain's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where could it go?"

"Unknown sir." Ingram continued reading new, incoming data even as she spoke. "The Borg don't even show up on long range sensors. Even at transwarp, they couldn't have outrun us this fast. Not without leaving at least some sort of residual energy signature." Additional electronic chirps sounded from beneath her fingertips as she continued speedily inputting commands. "There's no sign of fuel residue – no anything… it's like they were never even there at all."

"Could this have been a temporal incursion of some sort?" Intrigued, Jean-Luc Picard eased up behind Ingram and began reading over her shoulder.

Shaking her head, Jessica paused just long enough to look him in the eye. "I don't think so. Whatever we ran into passed right through us and headed off toward port in the direction of 344 mark 220. Both of the remaining vessels have recovered and are moving off."

"Lay in a pursuit course," Ducane ordered without hesitation.

Ensign Murry frowned at the prospect, turning her head fast enough to send her dark ponytail flying. "Commander Nelson just checked in sir. He is having real problems down in main engineering," she announced. "That energy field appears to have thrown our temporal core out of balance. He and Captain Hernandez are working to stabilize our Omega molecule chain…" She too turned to look directly at her senior officers. "Until he regains control, Nelson is recommending that we hold our current position here. He strongly suggests that we rely on maneuvering thrusters and impulse drive for now… nothing faster-than-light."

Seething with controlled anger, the Captain turned his head to one side. "So Soran is going to elude us for a _second_ time," he growled moodily.

"It would appear so," confirmed Ingram. "Both ships have gone to warp, holding a course that will lead them deeper into the Delta Quadrant." She did a quick double-take, glancing back toward her computerized map of the territory. "It looks like he's headed directly for the central Borg uni-complex."

"Of course he is," Picard nodded. "He's built himself a weapon even more powerful than his stolen starship. Why wouldn't he want to take them on?" The former _Enterprise–D_ and _–E_ Captain watched the two ships vanish in a blaze of light on the viewscreen in front of them.

"He's not just headed deeper into Borg space," continued Ingram with an amused shake of her head. "Soran just transmitted a challenge on a direct line to the Borg Queen's central chamber. He's calling her out – letting her know in advance that he's coming specifically for _her_."

Ducane's fingertips touched his gold Comm-badge. "Ducane to Nelson."

"_Nelson here_."

"Adam. I need you to get our core stabilized as soon as possible," the Captain told his Chief Engineer. "A major temporal incursion is about to occur, and we've lost contact with our reinforcements in the future. I need our engines back on-line pronto."

"_We're doing our best sir_," the usually jovial young officer acknowledged. "_That energy field really screwed things up down here. If we move before I'm certain repairs are completed, we could trigger an explosion that would damage sectors in all directions. Please do NOT move this ship using warp power without first receiving my express authorization, even if you have an emergency. If you do, you'll only cause an even larger catastrophe_."

"Understood." Ducane exhaled slowly, calmly accepting the bad news.

Kirk studied Picard thoughtfully. "We've been busy studying the Omega molecule chains used on Preserver planet pushers for some time now," he pointed out. "Perhaps we should offer our assistance."

"It's better than standing around up here," agreed Picard. The two of them retreated swiftly toward the rear of the bridge and vanished inside the turbolift.

Watching them go, Ducane shifted his gaze toward the upper walkway. "Commander Roberts," he inquired curiously. "Have you been able to learn anything from the subspace link?"

"Negative," the android responded. "Our link with the Preserver network has been temporarily severed. It is currently in the process of resetting itself. This entire matter is quite unusual, to say the least."

"I kind of expected that," noted Ducane with a wry smile. "As soon as you regain access, send out an electronic page and request that Data contact us immediately. I don't care what he's doing or how much he's in charge of monitoring… I want his isomorphic _ass_ on the bridge of this ship asap."

"How can Data help matters?" wondered Ingram. "We're doing everything we possibly can."

"Our former Captain has already _'helped'_," muttered the Captain cynically. "And as usual he hasn't granted us the courtesy of consulting with us before making decisions."

His First Officer caught on immediately. "You think _Data_ was responsible for that energy field?"

Ducane nodded firmly in her general direction. "It was him."

* * *

Delta Quadrant, February 25, 2154, Borg Space

* * *

"_I'm coming for you, leader of Borg. I'm going to destroy your Collective first and then YOU_."

The Queen smiled arrogantly upon viewing the incoming transmission. As leader of the Borg, she regularly received threats from humanoids with murderous intent. The very nature of her species – its propensity to assimilate and steal technology and life from other races – generated very strong emotions in those few who managed to survive her attacks. Many of them never recovered from the shock, eventually giving in to their insatiable need for revenge and allowing their uncontrolled hatred to override the logical choice of preserving what was left of their people. They would salvage a working ship, sometimes even a small fleet, and then attack with the sole purpose of killing as many Borg as possible before they died. Most of these 'survivors' no longer cared for their own safety, and would set collision courses with the cubes that she sent out to meet them. By choosing this course of action, they too swiftly became Borg drones or even worse – additional casualties.

On this particular occasion, however, two things were very different. The first oddity that the Queen noticed was that an incoming enemy usually didn't know the precise coordinates of her personal chambers. The fact that this particular attacker possessed that knowledge and had used the information to send a message directly to that very location unsettled her slightly. Her personal chambers within the uni-complex were traditionally a closely guarded secret and its location something only carefully selected drones surrounding her usually knew. Only when she personally communicated with distant cubes and spheres – overriding the centralized group mind – did she leave behind a command signal that could be traced back to her. Reviewing the Borg's central archives, the Queen couldn't recall any recent activity that would give away her position. The second item that puzzled her was the method of approach used by this newest attacker… a subspace rift was opening less than a light year from the uni-complex, a feat that rivaled even Borg trans-warp technology.

"_PLACE ALL NEARBY VESSELS ON STANDBY. INITIATE DEFENSIVE MEASURE 031B-3F00_."

The Queen was very much intrigued by the event. Usually the survivors she left behind retained only damaged ships and had very little new technology available. Occasionally some of them requisitioned assistance from the inhabitants of neighboring star systems and managed to cobble together a reasonable sized fighting force. Very few, however, ever reached her with any remaining, relevant technology worthy of assimilation.

On this occasion it appeared as though things would be different. A preliminary analysis of the incoming pair of ships indicated that they were generating significant power output. At any given time her attention was usually devoted to a multi-tasking effort that simultaneously shifted her attention between dozens of sizeable, ongoing projects within the Milky Way galaxy. Intrigued, she placed all projects that normally required her personal supervision on temporary standby and redirected her full attention toward this newest attacker.

A flick of the Queen's fingertips mirrored the silent command transmitted instantly from her electronically enhanced brain. Smirking with anticipation, she redirected the closest cube on a course outward to meet these strange new attackers. Attacking the Borg was always an unthinkable act, but _these_ people were obviously mentally unbalanced. Those who were foolish enough to announce their intent in _advance_ of an attack she placed in a category all by themselves. Soon they would be part of her Collective or dead. She hoped that it would be the former, allowing her to know all of their secrets.

The vessel she dispatched was a smaller scout vessel, with more symmetry and less intricacy on its outer hull along with stronger than usual, reinforced hull plating. Although at first glance it appeared to be significantly less powerful than its larger counterparts, this version of a Borg cube was just as deadly a killer. Often it attracted the attention of those who sought to steal its sophisticated technology, and those who perceived weakness and approached it very quickly discovered that a Borg vessel of _any_ size was a very dangerous adversary indeed. On this occasion, however, this newest attacker presented an even greater challenge for her to analyze. The pair of approaching vessels didn't even slow down, and in their wake her scout vessel vanished suddenly from sensors in a rapidly expanding cloud of debris.

"_ALL VESSELS, INITIATE DEFENSIVE MEASURE 041B-3F05_."

The time for evaluation was over. Truly the intruders had already proven themselves to be more than a minor distraction. They possessed weaponry capable of overpowering even her toughest starships, leaving the Collective with no choice but to reprioritize eradication above assimilation. She doubted that even a small fleet of her ships would be able to overpower the newcomer, and so her call went out to all Borg vessels throughout the region. She brought in cube after cube – over a thousand of them – from nearby sectors and planetary star systems. Dozens of transwarp conduits opened in front of the uni-complex as those who answered her call swiftly assembled. Within minutes, a massive fleet of defenders stood ready to give their lives to protect her.

Efficiently and with loving care, the Queen arranged them in a lengthy line between the uni-complex and the enemy assailants. There were, after all, physical laws governing everything that traveled in normal space, and she fully intended to use those rules to her advantage. The attacker's power curve was truly impressive, but it would have an upper limit – a theoretical maximum that could not be exceeded. All she needed to do was make certain that enough ships of her own were available to pool together their resources and eventually it would be overpowered. The certainty of it caused her to smile coldly. _Her overconfident enemy had brought only two ships, and she would make them pay for that._

What remained of a humanoid pulse quickened suddenly within her as the detailed configuration of both enemy attackers was imaged on a screen for closer examination. Neither vessel design was immediately familiar to her, but the power output detected from each both excited and delighted the Borg Queen. The intensity and strength of the enemy shields and offensive weaponry could only be sustained by the output of _one_ possible power source… a molecule chain she had previously considered to be theoretical, and whose secrets she had personally coveted for decades now. _Omega_. It thrilled her that her central Collective was currently under attack by someone who had finally stabilized and harnessed the most powerful energy source in the galaxy. The opportunity to assimilate a working model beckoned to her like a willing lover.

"_REMAIN VIGILANT_," the voices of her Collective cautioned her. "_THESE VESSELS REPRESENT A GENUINE THREAT TO OUR DEFENSIVE PERIMETER. IMMEDIATE TERMINATION OF BOTH SHIPS IS STRONGLY RECOMMENDED_."

"_NEGATIVE_," the Queen responded. Her brain's maximum computational capacity had been amplified to a level many thousands of times the norm for a humanoid via the technology integrated into her neural synapses. "_THE SACRIFICE OF MULTIPLE BORG VESSELS IS ACCEPTABLE IN THIS CASE IN ORDER TO INSURE ASSIMILATION OF THE ENEMY_."

Hers was the final decision, the voice that brought order to chaos. Again she issued electronic commands and immediately the massive fleet began to separate. Some of the ships moved upward while others dropped back protectively to act as a last stand in defense of the uni-complex. It was a contingency that would rarely be needed, and yet the Collective took no chances. Other ships descended below the enemy's entry plane so that they could rise up and attack while other friendly vessels descended from above. Each group of vessels continued along a common course, sticking close enough together to overlap their shields and thereby increase the total strength of each. The Queen watched with approval, although minute bits of an inexplicable apprehension lingered in her mind.

_Even with the power of Omega at their disposal_, she told herself reassuringly, _the attackers were still limited by a maximum capacity that could easily be overwhelmed_. She could continue to call for reinforcements to her fleet, while they – once their escape was cut off – could not. In the end, the outcome of the confrontation would come down to simple mathematics. Idly she wondered how many of her precious vessels she would have to sacrifice in order to obtain the secret of Omega._ After all_, the Queen mused silently, _even the most powerful weapon in the universe wouldn't be able to overpower all of them simultaneously_.

The enemy was very close now, and the lengthy, cylindrical starship fell back suddenly, allowing the strange, glowing sphere accompanying it to move into the lead. Even as she continued to observe the targets using a visual signal relayed directly to her from one of her lead ships, the Queen's curiosity remained piqued. She had never encountered this type of technology before, and the need to possess it continued to swell in her breast – the feeling was a tiny fraction of residual emotion that she had allowed to remain part of her. Odd metallic rings encircling the alien sphere's outer hull had begun to rotate, accelerating faster and faster. The action indicated to her that the device was laboring feverishly, preparing to generate a high level of sustained power. _Soon it will all be mine_, she thought triumphantly. _Soon I will know all that they know_.

_Unfortunately for her on this day, she had never been more wrong._

Tolian Soran was no tactician in any sense of the word, which was one of the major reasons he had specifically recruited Ishiik and his Krell followers to assist him. Ishiik _was_ experienced in advanced tactical strategy, and he knew precisely how the Borg would organize their fleet in order to present their best defense against the Xindi super weapon. During construction of the device, he had made use of that expertise and assisted the El-Aurian scientist in preparing an effective battle plan. Both of the incoming ships slowed to a virtual crawl, and the Xindi sphere's outer, metallic rings gradually slowed their rotation before finally snapping to a complete stop.

_Then the entire sphere itself began rotating horizontally._

At first it was just a gentle spin, gradually accelerating, but the speed of rotation continued to increase steadily with each passing second. Sensing the impending danger, the lead group of Borg cubes and spheres began to accelerate forward, attempting to close the remaining distance that separated them from their attacker as their infamous tractor beams and weapons came fully on-line. Already the Xindi super weapon was whirling at hyper speed, turning at a rate fast enough to obscure the details along its outer hull. The twirling sphere hovered for just one brief moment longer – a gray metallic blur lined with pulsing emerald stripes. Then it slowly began a lazy, counter-clockwise rotation toward its port side while the accelerated, horizontal spinning continued unabated.

As the Xindi super weapon completed its final stages and prepared to fire, the nearby _Thraex_ vanished behind a newly established, inter-phasic cloaking field. In doing so, Dr. Soran effectively removed his own ship from the battlefield. Although the _Thraex_ would remain in the vicinity and continued to float nearby, it was now fully protected from a counter attack. Directed energy discharges of any strength could never hope to hit a vessel out of synch with normal space time… it was just one more weapon the Doctor had chosen from an arsenal of tactics that the Borg did not yet possess. The cybernetic creatures were still far too young an expanding, conqueror race. Additionally, Soran had made it his business to comprehensively study their dark and deadly history.

The original Xindi sphere had contained a built-in feature designed to encourage the implosion of its target, a necessity given that its primary use would be to destroy whole planets. Since the weapon lacked an unlimited energy supply, the implosion factor was needed to hasten the destruction of targeted bodies. Soran had rejected that process in favor of a razor's edge, knowing that his new version would rely solely upon a stabilized Omega molecule chain in order to intensify its already powerful energy beam. This new super weapon therefore generated a power level that Degra – the Xindi scientist still living in this very same era – had never imagined possible. Continuing to rotate vertically while spinning horizontally at an unbelievably rapid rate, the super weapon's control center finally received from the _Thraex_ the command its Krell crew had been waiting for.

_Fire!_

A white hot blade of energy erupted out of the sphere's discharge disk, stabbing out into the blackness of space. There was no way to measure just how far it reached, even after repeated attempts by the Borg to do just that. Behind the safety of an inter-phasic cloak, Soran and Ishiik watched closely with satisfaction as the Xindi super weapon's particle beam lit up the immediate vicinity with light so bright it was difficult to look at directly. Drones on nearby vessels observed what appeared to be a white hot disk encircling the sphere. In reality the directed energy discharge was a single energy beam, emitted from the spinning vessel's firing mechanism and revolving in a 360 degree circle so fast that it was nearly impossible for even enhanced, Borg eye implants to spot.

The counter-clockwise, vertical rotation allowed the spinning Xindi super weapon to direct its attack across an entire, three-dimensional environment. Instantly it began to slice apart the hundreds of ships comprising the Borg fleet… _all_ of them. The sphere's multiple rotation strategy allowed it to deploy its single, powerful beam of potent energy in all directions simultaneously. It was similar to the blade of a buzz saw rotating up and down across a 360 degree circle, cutting a wide swathe through the enemy fleet – even through those ships still vigilantly maintaining a discreet distance. The beam from the weapon was as potent as physically possible, and for the assembled Borg vessels it became instantly deadly. Like the meticulously controlled, whirling metallic blade of an ancient samurai warrior, the blazing, white hot energy beam sliced through even augmented, overlapped shields as though they weren't even active.

The Collective governing the Borg fleet immediately recognized the danger facing them and attempted to call a retreat. Even as they worked to withdraw, the beam continued whirling at high speed, piercing their shields and cleanly slicing their vessels into dozens of drifting fragments_. _There was nowhere to run to, since the killing disk of white light continued its leisurely, counter-clockwise rotation. Vessels above and below – even those that tried to flank the Xindi weapon – all of them were caught in Soran's trap and cut to pieces. In mere seconds the entire Borg fleet began to come apart, and less than a minute later there were thousands of fiery explosions spraying debris in all directions. There was simply no time for them to adapt or deflect such a ferocious attack.

A light year away, even the Borg uni-complex shuddered from the incoming attack and began to rapidly sustain damage. Large sections of glowing, cleanly cut metallic superstructure separated from the central complex and gently floated off into the distance. The Queen's eyes narrowed with spiteful anger as new telemetry indicated that the beam firing from the super weapon had been deliberately designed to cut through _subspace_. Amazingly, _this allowed the sphere's energy discharge to move faster than light_ and left it fully capable of attacking the central Borg compound even while the sphere remained at its current location, well out of the maximum range of retaliatory weapons fire. There was still no precise measurement available as to just how far the energy discharge could reach… perhaps there _was_ no maximum range. The alien weapon was _that_ powerful and _that_ potent, and it wasn't long before her drones began to react accordingly.

Still fully under a centralized control, the Borg held their ground and followed instructions as ordered. And yet the silent, mental cries of anguish and the anxiety from those who survived those first sixty seconds began to flood the Collective's group consciousness. Despite repeated attempts to reassure and quiet her drones, the Queen herself felt a stab of fear run through her as the battle zone where her fleet had assembled quickly became an over-crowded, massive field of smoldering, drifting debris. At first she retained command and control over the larger, still functioning sections of her damaged vessels. As the seconds continued to tick away, however, that ability too began to dwindle away.

Working swiftly to try and salvage something from the unexpected debacle, she directed the surviving drones to use tractor beams and capture all nearby debris. The damaged material was now badly needed for use as raw materials in order to regenerate the missing portions of each ship. _And yet even as they obeyed her instructions, the drone casualty count continued to escalate_. Borg crews were fully capable of rebuilding entire decks during a furious battle, but it took a fully functional Collective of drones to command and control the regeneration process. It also took _time_, and her communications with the ships in her massive fleet were steadily degrading with each passing second. Unabated fury ran through the Borg Queen, a hateful rage generated primarily by the Collective's inability to adapt. The sphere's programmed pattern of attack quite simply left them with no time to do so.

The Xindi super weapon maintained its rate of fire for nearly three minutes, continuing to deny the Queen and her drones the precious time necessary to repair a critically wounded fleet. Then the huge metal sphere slowed briefly to a complete stop and terminated its killing beam. Five seconds later, it promptly resumed its previous tilt-and-whirl motion, this time rotating clockwise toward its starboard side. Again the sphere deployed its killing beam, firing in all directions. Damaged ships that had already sustained multiple hits were struck again, and this time they came apart much faster. The sustained rate of fire from Soran's resurrected super weapon was incredible, something that the Borg Queen had never before witnessed during her lengthy reign as commander of the Collective. Her drones were notorious for being relentless – able to adapt swiftly to constantly changing conditions during combat. On this occasion, however, they were clearly outmatched in every conceivable way.

Malfunctions from major systems that had been sliced cleanly apart began to ignite fires throughout the entire uni-complex, triggering a series of explosions that filled the Borg command structure with waves of heat and thick gray smoke. System after system lost power, and as her failing telemetry continued to update it became blatantly obvious to the Borg Queen that the entire fleet of ships assembled to protect her was rapidly becoming unresponsive. The drones still alive aboard each vessel were limited as to how fast they could regenerate critically damaged system – more and more of them were getting sliced into pieces or dying in massive explosions. Struggling mightily, the Queen tried hard to suppress the automatic self-destruct built into all active Borg drones and still functioning electronics. This was a critical function that the Collective relied heavily upon in order to keep stolen secrets from falling into the hands of potential enemies. On this day, however, that strategy too contributed to her downfall. Command and control slowly evaporated away until it was beyond her ability to control.

_She who had planned to use the laws of physics against her enemy had been caught by surprise, and those very same limitations were now being effectively deployed against her_.

Abandoning all remaining hope, the Queen continued to watch from the safety of her personal, diamond-shaped command vessel. Fortunately for her and its crew, she had been personally supervising the assimilation of a distant planetary system during the time Soran had chosen to attack. She watched helplessly as huge sections of the ceiling, weakened at various points throughout the uni-complex, collapsed from the immense weight of upper decks straining against the badly damaged superstructure below. Additional sights and sounds transmitted from undamaged drones in the battle zone flooded her mind, and – bound directly to her Collective – she was forced to endure everything right along with them. She watched as huge fragments of separated vessels fell rapidly away from each other, all of them repeatedly sliced apart again and again as they did so. She heard the cries of pain from drones whose last view was a pure blaze of bright white, and could only stand by helplessly while the ships in her once powerful fleet continued to disintegrate in the explosions caused by irreparably damaged systems or initiated, automatic self-destructs that she could no longer override.

Angered beyond imagination, the Queen refocused her attention on undamaged ships in distant sectors. She chose a rendezvous point and began rallying all available vessels, ordering them to move to newly chosen meeting area. Because she personally had not been compromised, the Borg leader was able to retain control over all undamaged assets. However, the integrity of the uni-complex continued to degrade rapidly as the rapidly rotating, white hot beam from the Xindi weapon continued to strike it in multiple locations. Self-destruct subroutines were initiating everywhere within the massive structure and it quite obviously had sustained irreparable damage. Less than a minute later, an uncontrollable chain-reaction triggered a rapid series of explosions that destroyed the remainder of its entirety… the vaunted Borg stronghold that was supposedly invulnerable to attack.

_The Queen's decision to override the decision of her group consciousness and attempt the assimilation of technology powered by Omega molecules had proven to be a disastrous choice. Eyes blazing, she threw back her head and screamed furiously_.

* * *

Delta Quadrant, February 25, 2154, Aboard the _Thraex

* * *

_

Despite the overwhelming victory he had just won, Dr. Tolian Soran stood on the bridge of his stolen starship, frowning deeply with considerable disappointment. "She was _supposed_ to be _there_," he snapped angrily, turning toward Ishiik with obvious frustration and barely contained anger. "The Queen was _supposed_ to be at the uni-complex."

The dark black silhouette of the Krell's shoulders shrugged indifferently. "We correctly deciphered the location of her personal signal after you boarded their scout sphere," he reminded the Doctor. "There was no guarantee that she would remain at this location. It's very easy for Borg vessels of any size to open a transwarp conduit, and throughout the history of this species she has always had many operations in progress at any given time. She likes to supervise…"

The Doctor stood quietly in silence for a moment. "I know," he admitted finally. "I was simply hoping that this would all be over. _Now_ we have to trace her signal again and hunt her down. The cloning facility died with the uni-complex, so once we kill _her_,the rest of the Collective will fall."

"What if she builds a _new_ cloning facility?" wondered Ishiik. "The Borg can create technology almost as fast as we can. Their regenerative powers are legendary."

"We'll find out when we squeeze the last spark of _life_ out of her, won't we?" replied Soran with a malevolent grin. On the viewscreen, he watched as the Xindi super weapon stopped firing for a second time and gradually reduced its rate of rotation. Slowing to a complete stop, it simply hung in space, a seemingly harmless dark orb with glowing green primary generators pock-marked along its metallic surface. In the distance, bright flashes of light still lit up the darkness of space as Borg debris continued to smolder. Many of the malfunctioning systems were continually releasing uncontrolled energy discharges… under ordinary circumstances it would have proved to be a fantastic lightshow.

"Would you like me to locate her and plot an intercept course?" Ishiik hesitated, having learned from experience not to anticipate the Doctor's next move.

"No," Soran decided almost casually. His eyes flashed with anger. "If I remember correctly, I believe I specifically ordered Captain Ducane _not_ to try and follow or confront us again. And yet he chose to do so… he showed up yet again in his Timeship to try and stop us from fighting today's battle. That kind of disobedience should not go unpunished…"

Ishiik's expression was impossible to read within the outline of his head. There was only an empty dark void from which his voice emerged. "My people are _with_ you Dr. Soran. But we came back to this galaxy in order to kill _Borg_, not innocent civilians." The Krell warrior paused, choosing his words carefully. "I sincerely hope that you will not follow through with your threat to send Borg to their world. _No one_ deserves to be cruelly assimilated in such a manner."

Soran touched a console in front of him and a three dimensional map of the Milky Way appeared above it, rotating slowly in a blaze of light blue stars. Examining it curiously, the Doctor reached out and tapped his fingers in an area well within the Alpha Quadrant. Immediately the rest of the galactic map vanished and the location he had touched enlarged to show dozens of star systems in greater detail. "_If_ that unknown, electronic anomaly hadn't disabled the _Relativity_, we would have had to destroy Captain Ducane along with his entire crew," Soran pointed out. "Their destruction would have brought more Timeships back from the 29th century and caused us even more trouble." His glittering eyes focused on Ishiik. "I hope you don't plan to stay here forever, fighting a battle with Starfleet over and over?"

"No, I do not."

"Good." The Doctor smiled in a more relaxed manner. He worked quickly, fingers dancing across the console as he called up design specifications for a piece of equipment stored in the _Thraex_ archives. Touching the console, he displayed a detailed graphic of the device so that Ishiik could examine it. "Can your people manufacture this?" he asked curiously.

The Krell studied the specifications closely. "Of course," he nodded.

"Excellent. Then we have one more stop to make before we renew our pursuit of the Borg Queen." Soran grinned with renewed zeal. "We'll pick a point in time and plant this device, and then use it only if necessary." He studied the star map floating above the sensor console. "We'll be able to slip into any one of these uninhabited systems with no problem. Once we've successfully placed this device, we'll have a diversion ready in case Ducane tries to interfere with us yet again."

"It is possible he won't," Ishiik speculated. "That energy wave was no accident. I am certain that someone else created it specifically to interfere with the Captain's plans." He turned toward the viewscreen and stared at all of the floating debris still drifting in the distance, pausing before continuing his train of thought. "Do we perhaps have an unknown ally?"

Soran harrumphed loudly. "Doubtful," he decided with a wary shake of his head. "I don't know anyone in the 22nd century… how about you?"

The Krell said nothing in response.

"Locate the Borg Queen," declared Soran firmly. "And this time, find a way to monitor her subspace transmissions so that we know where she is at all times. We'll go right to her next time. We'll go right to her, and then I'll personally _throttle_ the life out of her with my bare hands."


	14. Field Of Fire

_**Author's Notes: **The TR-116 model of chemically propelled projectile firearm was originally introduced in this "DS9" episode ("Field of Fire"). For additional notes regarding this weapon regarding my decision to incorporate the TR- series into this story, refer to the comments at the bottom of Chapter 11._

* * *

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Field Of Fire

* * *

**

_Enterprise_ NCC-1701, Tholian Space, Alpha Quadrant

* * *

Shortly after Kirk returned to the circular living area in the center of the Tholian stronghold, he conferred briefly with Dr. McCoy. Once that was done he meandered back past the airlock that connected the facility's temporary airlock to the _Columbus_ in search of Zund, the Andorian. He found the alien sitting in a ring of seven people – one of the groups organized by security officers Rowan and Marcus in preparation for transport. Zund was much more talkative than he had been earlier, eagerly discussing matters with other prisoners as everyone waited to see what the Captain and his crew would do next. The Tholian announcement had been a frightening reminder to everyone as to where they were, and anxiety was prevalent on the faces of each malnourished, wide-eyed captive.

"There are 118 captives alive and well, sir," Marcus whispered politely as Kirk passed by him. "That will require at least 13 separate transports, unless Mr. Scott decides to override normal transporter protocols and disconnect the safeties." He stood ready next to crewman Rowan with his rifle in hand, protectively watching the civilians.

"Understood." Kirk nodded respectfully. "I'm going to order him to do just that. We need to take at least twelve people at a time and reduce the number of transports to ten or less."

Marcus smiled. "Mr. Scott figured you would say that. He and Michaels took fourteen people with them on the _Galileo_. He suggested you take at least ten more with you on the _Columbus_. It makes for a crowded trip, but the ride is short."

Chuckling, Kirk patted the crewman reassuringly on the shoulder. "As usual, you folks are thinking every step of the way," he commented. "Thanks for watching our backs."

"Always Captain." He passed the word to Rowan. _Reorganize into groups of twelve_.

Turning away from Marcus, Kirk moved directly into the center of the group of people sitting on the floor. He leaned down with a malevolent smile and grabbed Zund by the top of his shirt and physically hauled the startled Andorian to his feet. "Are you waiting here for us to _rescue_ you?" he snapped sharply at the alien. "Are you expecting us to take you with us when we leave?"

Zund appeared genuinely surprised by the unexpected action. "Captain, _why_ the sudden animosity?" the blue-skinned Andorian asked curiously. The tips of his antennae rotated forward, reacting to the sudden rush of emotion from the human male. "My people are _allied_ with yours…"

Shoving the man against the nearest wall, Kirk's hazel eyes blazed with fury. "Your _government_ may be allied with mine, but _you're_ no friend of ours," he growled tersely in response. "I don't have time to play games. So if you _lie_ to me again, you're going to be the first one who goes through that open door. Do I make myself _clear_ Mister?"

"What do you want to know Captain? I have told you only the truth…" his words died in mid-sentence as Kirk continued to fiercely stare him down.

"You told us _part_ of the truth," Kirk corrected him. "How long have you _really_ been here? How long have you been working for the Tholians?"

The beginning of another half truth formed, but the Captain's somber expression changed Zund's mind. "I do not know," he replied finally, eyes dropping in shame to the floor. "It has been so long I have completely forgotten… every day in this dastardly place seems to last an eternity."

"But you _have_ been here for longer than the few weeks that you claimed."

"Yes," the Andorian admitted. "I am curious… _how_ did you know?"

Having completed his work with the other captives, McCoy stepped forward. "Your sweating was a symptom completely out of place in this temperature, even for an Andorian," he stated informatively. "I used a battery powered medical scanner to diagnose your condition. There is a mild Berthold radiation belt surrounding this facility, and the _only_ way you could be suffering adverse affects from it would be after a prolonged period of exposure. My guess is that you've been here for at least three months."

"So Gorn thugs aren't the only ones that the Tholians recruited," continued Kirk, studying the alien's expression carefully. "It appears that they also plant a _spy_ in the midst of their captors, perhaps to deliberately aggravate the mind games that go on whenever a door opens."

"No," said Zund firmly in disagreement. "I would never help them do that. Most of what I told you _is_ the truth Captain. I am a coward. On the rare occasions when this facility is empty, the Tholians interview me and ask questions. Then they capture additional ships and new crews are forced down here. Each time I pretend that I am the lone survivor from a ship captured just prior to theirs. In exchange they have spared my life and – in the unlikely event that I can survive long enough to satisfy their needs – I will supposedly be freed." He paused, continuing to stare at his feet and the floor beneath. "I am a man with no honor Captain… an empty, emotionless shell who always lets others go first. I am truly surprised that these people haven't simply picked me up and thrown me through one of those doors by now. Many have talked about it on occasion, but it is a testament to your people's inner strength that they have not acted on their more… primitive… emotions."

"_There are five minutes remaining_," stated an electronically enhanced, staccato-like voice from an unseen loudspeaker. In the tight confines of a facility that was almost completely metallic, a slight echo was also audible. "_Two people must move to the center of this facility within five minutes or else we double the number required to four_."

"Don't worry," said Kirk in a sharp rebuke to Zund, ignoring the Tholian announcement completely. He released his grip on the Andorian's collar. "You don't have to sacrifice yourself this time either. We're going in there and find out if anyone is still alive in there."

Zund glanced along the winding corridor toward the open doorway, where only dim lighting spilled out from within. "Can't you feel the residual heat still emanating from within there?" he asked curiously. "I have never been able to prove it, but it is my belief that most of the time the center of this complex has an atmosphere more in keeping with Tholian norms."

"In other words, hotter than hell," suggested McCoy.

"Exactly," nodded Zund emphatically. "Tholians can tolerate lower temperatures for a brief time, but it is not their preferred environment. I think that this is what happens in there. Periodically they cool down the center of this complex, and your people are subsequently forced in there for some sort of unknown 'encounter'… perhaps a detailed interrogation of some sort. I wish I knew more, but the Tholians ask _me_ questions during the times this place is empty. They have _never_ answered mine."

Chekov suddenly rounded the corner and took up a protective stance next to the open doorway, holding his rifle at the ready. Kirk glanced first toward his Ensign and then back to Zund. "Okay… I'm going to take you at your word and grant you an opportunity to redeem yourself. Will _you_ come with us?" he asked politely. "Will _you_ help us find out what is going on in there?"

"I… _I_… do not know…" Zund's expression filled suddenly with genuine fear. "No one lives…"

"_We_ will protect you," said the Captain sincerely. "And when we leave, we'll take you with us."

The Andorian considered the offer, mulling the matter over silently for a moment. "I don't think what happens in there is in any way pleasant," he declared finally. "But I will go with you… if only to satisfy my own curiosity, and perhaps to salvage at least some of my severely damaged honor."

"It is never dishonorable to _want_ to stay alive," replied Kirk bluntly. "But it _was_ wrong for you to deceive others who were facing similar difficulties." He put a much friendlier hand on Zund's left arm. "Come on… let's go see what the Tholians are hiding in the center of this place."

* * *

Only minutes later they approached the open door cautiously, with McCoy lagging only a few steps behind his Captain. As usual, the good Doctor was prepared to follow Kirk anywhere, even through the gates of hell if needed. That was the one area where the Captain regularly needed to look after his Chief Medical Officer – McCoy didn't at all like to admit that he was not nearly the 'trained soldier' that the others were. So he would bravely push forward during dangerous assignments, even though his skills in medicine were often badly needed elsewhere. Assessing the situation swiftly, Kirk motioned to Chekov. "You and Dr. McCoy remain here," he ordered brusquely, watching the doorway skeptically. Frightfully hot blasts of air continued to pour out of it along with a strange, foul odor that caused him to cringe.

"Jim, I think I should come with you," replied McCoy softly. "There could be injured people who are still alive in there… if so they're going to need a Doctor."

"If so we'll bring them out to you," the Captain responded sternly. "Whatever happens in there is obviously dangerous. If the Tholians are indeed interrogating people in there, then they apparently kill them when they're done."

"None of this makes any sense," McCoy decided, shaking his head. "What kind of useful intelligence information can the Tholians possibly get from _civilian_ merchants and passengers?"

"I don't know Bones." The Captain stepped out in front of the open doorway, glancing down the dingy, metal corridor leading farther inside the complex. "If we're not back in twenty minutes, I want you and Chekov to load the _Columbus_ with as many people as it will hold and return to the _Enterprise_. Have Spock execute the best rescue plan that he and Scotty can come up with."

"Aye Captain." Chekov accepted the order without question, but McCoy hesitated.

"_Jim_," the Doctor said for the second time in as many minutes, much more forcefully this time.

Kirk shook his head negatively. "I'm sorry Doctor. You stay _here_." Turning toward the pair of Security officers, he smiled wryly. "Mr. Rowan, Mr. Marcus, you're with us."

They nodded, both responding with a synchronized "Aye, sir".

"At least take Chekov with you!" insisted McCoy, refusing to give in completely to the Captain's choice. "_He's_ the weapons specialist, for crying out loud. You may _need_ him."

"If _you_ sincerely feel qualified to pilot the shuttle craft, I would be happy to take him with us."

The Doctor briefly considered the accuracy of Kirk's statement. "Okay," he conceded reluctantly. "I hadn't thought of that… that _is_ an excellent point."

Stepping in front of McCoy, Zund smiled at the Doctor reassuringly. Then, along with Kirk and the two security officers, the four men began slowly walking toward the open entrance way.

"_Stop immediately!_"

The Captain had expected to provoke a response from the Tholians. Inwardly he smiled at their predictability. "What's the matter?" he asked curiously, raising his voice to a level slightly higher than that of normal conversation. "I thought you _wanted_ us to go in here?"

"_We want TWO of you to go in… only two. And leave your weapons behind… they do not function here_."

Several groups of captives were seated nearby and all of their faces had turned expectantly toward Kirk upon hearing the latest alien communication. Their anxiety was quite evident – it had been a long time since anyone had actually stepped forward to try and protect any of them from harm. The Captain turned slightly, trying to identify where the unknown voice was coming from. It was impossible to tell, although the electronically distorted Tholian words seemed to drift down from speakers that were concealed somewhere above.

Confident and poised, Kirk flashed a charismatic, reassuring smile toward the civilians. "At minimum, our weapons will still function as _clubs_," he announced in response. "So we'll keep them handy, if you don't mind." He took a bold step forward, beckoning for Zund to follow. As soon as the two of them crossed the threshold, however, the door instantly began to close. The Captain was ready for that, having expected no less from the Tholians. He placed the barrel end of his rifle against the opposite side of the open doorway and used the butt end of the weapon's stock to catch the closing door. His temporary solution worked… the door halted its motion as soon as it pressed hard against the TR-110 and ground to a stop with a metallic creak.

"The Tholians will never approve of _that_," muttered Zund disapprovingly. "There will be repercussions for this disobedience."

Glancing over his shoulder at the Andorian, Kirk's smile widened. "Rule number one when entering unknown territory, Mr. Zund," he commented idly. "_Always_ leave yourself a way back… just in case a hasty retreat becomes necessary." His hand drifted to the holster at his side.

"Captain, perhaps you should not rely solely on a hand weapon." Chekov boldly pulled forth the pistol from his own holster and promptly handed his own rifle over to Kirk.

"Okay." Accepting the rifle, Kirk ticked off the safety. Next, he pulled forth his pistol and offered it to Zund. "Be ready Chekov," he warned, casting a quick glance back over his shoulder. "If the Tholians decide to send Gorn or other attackers in here, make certain to take them down. _Protect_ our people."

"Count on it sir," the Ensign promised.

Zund studied the pistol with interest, and it was immediately obvious he was unused to the design. "I am not familiar with this type of weapon," the Andorian admitted dryly.

"The safety is off," Kirk told him. "It's a solid projectile, chemically propelled weapon unaffected by dampening fields of any kind. Stay behind me and use caution if you have to fire, because in close quarters the ricochet of the bullets fired can kill us just as easily as anything we may find up ahead of us." As the two of them moved farther down the corridor, Rowan and Marcus eased their heavily muscled bodies through the gap in the doorway and alertly followed.

The four of them proceeded forward down a long, winding corridor that curved sharply to the right – easing gradually toward the center of the dome. Even in the dim lighting they could see shimmering heat waves, and as they progressed the air became stale and fetid with the odor of rotting things. "There is only _death_ in here," predicted Zund. "Can't you smell it in the air?"

"It's got to be over fifty degrees Celsius in here," decided the dark-haired Marcus.

Studying the smooth gray walls and filthy deck plating, Zund scoffed at the comment. "Not long ago I suspect that it was significantly _hotter_ in here," he stated confidently. "They have simply cooled this place down long enough to keep us alive."

Rowan glanced at the back of the white-haired Andorian's head. "Keep us alive for what?"

Smiling wryly as he walked, Kirk nodded. "_That_ is the question of the hour, Mr. Rowan."

The curving corridor straightened out and opened up into a vast, domed cavern ahead. Aside from the large, rock-like objects at the center, the area appeared at first glance to be completely devoid of life. Exiting the corridor, the four men moved slowly toward a pile of massive crystalline stones and dirt that appeared to have been carefully arranged into a peaked hill. Situated high above them there were long rafters hooked to the ceiling that formed a metallic, seemingly random skeletal frame. Their view of the metal beams, along with most of the other open space in the room, was almost completely obscured by hundreds of thousands of strands of an unknown substance.

Everywhere they looked there were lengthy filaments strewn about, hair-like fibers that were slightly thicker than thread. The transparent material was dangling everywhere throughout the room, but the vast majority of it hung in clusters from the network of metal beams attached to the ceiling. At floor level, the fibers were stretched out across the entire room twisted together much more haphazardly… criss-crossing each other in what appeared to be a completely random manner.

Bold as ever, Kirk continued moving forward, holding his weapon at the ready. "I wish I had a functional tricorder," he admitted with mild disappointment. "That way, we could at least scan for humanoid life signs." He brushed aside large clusters of the filaments with one hand while others strewn in front of him curled tightly around his legs and torso. Tugging gently with one foot and then the rest of his body, the Captain noticed he was able to snap several dozen of them with minimal effort and resumed his forward progress. The vast bulk of them he lifted using the barrel of his weapon and eased aside, allowing just enough room for him to pass.

"Whatever this stuff is, it's a definite tripping hazard," pointed out Marcus.

"Agreed. Be careful where you step, especially if we have to run," nodded Kirk.

"What exactly is supposed to happen in here?" crewman Rowan asked curiously. "What _is_ all this stuff, sir? Could it be some sort of odd method of alien wiring?"

"No," Kirk declared instantly, catching a bunch of the filaments in one hand even as other clusters of the strange material hanging at odd angles wrapped around his chest. He carefully untangled himself by backing away while studying the threads in his hand closely. "Wiring must be capable of carrying an electronic current at some point. This stuff is different – it feels more like a natural fiber of some kind."

As the group progressed, the metallic floor plating beneath their feet became grimier… covered with a large variety of dirt and gravel along with an unknown black residue, apparently the after effects from a normally superheated atmosphere. Continuing to scan the room through all of the intertwined strands of fiber, the four men moved tentatively toward the crystalline rocks arranged in the center of the massive chamber. "I don't think this is an interrogation room," speculated Marcus suspiciously. "But it's definitely not safe… if no one comes out again, then people _have_ died in this place."

"Here." The Captain's boot had crunched suddenly, and he lifted it long enough to show them the dark black embers scattered beneath. Amid the still smoking remains were a few tiny, black objects. "I don't need Dr. McCoy to tell me that those are probably all that remains of a humanoid," he observed warily. "It's a good thing we left the door open. They can't choose to suddenly raise the temperature in here and kill us off without endangering the rest of the hostages in the outer living area. Apparently, whatever happens in here is supposed to affect only _two_ people at a time."

"I sincerely doubt that this is a simple oven," speculated crewman Rowan. "I don't think they plan to bake us to death."

Zund's face filled with sudden, uncontrollable fear. "I _know_ what happens here," he declared unexpectedly, touching some of the dangling, string-like material tentatively and then pulling away from it with clear revulsion. "I have never personally encountered Tholians before, but there are rumors about this kind of thing. Even on _my_ world there are people who have heard about places like this."

"What exactly…?" Kirk turned toward the Andorian, about to prod him further on the subject. Out of the corner of his eye, he detected sudden movement from the rock pile. It appeared as though one of the large, crystalline pieces of stone simply detached itself from the rest of them and started to move. Exactly what combination of minerals comprised the strange rock remained unknown to them. Obviously the thick crystallization was a direct result of the lengthy time it had spent in a super-heated environment. "Watch out!" he called out sharply in warning, reacting instantly by swinging his rifle into a firing position.

Marcus turned toward the Captain, opening his mouth to ask a question. Behind him, a long, multi-jointed crystalline tendril lashed out suddenly at super speed and caught him unprepared, striking him squarely in the back. The security officer grunted with surprise and then dropped to his knees. As quickly as the unknown enemy struck, it retracted the tendril away from the injured crewman. The damage was done, however, as a quick glance convinced Kirk that the blow had penetrated all the way through Marcus' body and out the front of his abdomen. There was blood on the floor now… blood from one of _his_ people. Fierce anger rose in his gut and threatened to overwhelm him, but he contained it effortlessly and reacted instinctively.

Kirk fired his rifle into the air five times in rapid succession – sharp retorts that echoed loudly throughout the enclosed confines of a chamber composed primarily of metal. A huge cloud of gray smoke appeared above his weapon, rising quickly and swirling wildly in the sweltering flow of artificial atmosphere. The rotten smell of dead things was swiftly replaced by the acrid smell of gunpowder as spent, ejected shell casings clattered loudly to the floor. The Captain grabbed Zund by the arm and gestured with his rifle toward the ashen-faced Marcus, who still had a stunned expression on his face. "Help him," he commanded heatedly. "Get Marcus out of here… Rowan and I will take care of the rest." His gaze drifted past the nodding Andorian and directly toward the _thing_ behind him.

Abruptly it rose to its full height of five meters on six thin legs – a massive, crystalline life form very similar to the Tholians themselves. Its body was a translucent carapace composed of an unknown mineral or minerals and reflected various shades of bright red. Within its body Kirk and Rowan could see an orange-tinted, reddish fluid of some kind pumping its way through its thorax and all of its limbs. Where its lower body ended and the legs began, however, the long, multi-jointed tail attached to its rear end whirled angrily behind it. At the peak of the alien's head, two long arms stretched outward just below a pair of glowing orbs that could only be eye-like sensory organs of some sort. Again that dangerous tail flashed forward, but this time the humanoids were ready for it. Kirk and Rowan moved easily out of the way, protecting Zund long enough for him to drag the injured Marcus back toward the corridor they had only so recently vacated. There was obvious fear in the Andorian's eyes, and he clung tightly to the pistol Kirk had given him.

Lightly touching the trigger of his weapon, Kirk activated a thin green targeting laser that sprouted instantly from the scope on top of the rifle, poking its way through the smoke-filled room and instantly touching the creature's mid-section. "I think this entity has made its meaning plain," the Captain decided. He fired a single shot at the beast this time, and the projectile instantly pierced its body, leaving behind a spider-webbed, cracked carapace. He carefully observed that the bullet failed to completely penetrate the alien's outer shell. "How do _you_ like being attacked?" he growled softly, stepping protectively in front of Zund and Marcus. "You _can_ be hurt, can't you?"

Again the creature's deadly tail lashed angrily toward them, but Kirk was again prepared and he turned his rifle sideways. He successfully deflected the attack, but the force of the blow knocked him violently backwards. He landed on the floor in a sitting position and slid several yards backward. Rowan reacted immediately in defense of his Captain, sighting along his own pale green laser. The security guard fired off a quick burst of gunfire and then retreated back toward the outer wall. The center of the alien's body cracked repeatedly as it was struck again and again. Roaring with a ferocious, hysterical shriek that reverberated through the entire chamber it swung completely about and charged the security guard with all five meters of its height looming from above. The speed with which the alien moved was truly astonishing and only Kirk's next barrage of weapons fire saved Rowan from an instant death.

The Tholian beast towered imposingly over Rowan for a second longer, despite the fact that its body had been perforated multiple times and fragments of all sizes were clattering to the metallic floor below. Then it spun about once again and resumed its attack on the Captain. Additional clouds of smoke threatened to obscure the shadow filled room even further. Moving steadily to his left, Kirk circled the central pile of rocks and continued backing away from the menacing life form stalking him. Additional spent shell casings rattled and rolled away from him, and his boots brushed against some of the glass-like shards. "Fire if you have a shot, but be careful Rowan," he called in warning. "These fragments are as sharp as broken glass. It would be very easy to injure yourself on them."

If the security guard heard him above the creature's sudden, high-pitched scream of fury, Kirk couldn't tell. The red-shirted crewman dove to his right through a large bunch of the strange, transparent filaments. Covered with the hair-like fibers, he leaped back to his feet with all pretense of restraint abandoned. The crewman switched his weapon from semi-automatic to fully-automatic mode and opened fire on the alien life form still relentlessly moving toward his Captain. Sharp, repetitive bursts of yellow flame exploded out of the barrel of his TR-110. Additional cracks appeared along the Tholian creature's body and one of its legs fell away, clattering to the floor along with hundreds of smaller crystalline shards. Wounded and angry, it hesitated momentarily, unsure of which opponent to pursue. The brief delay sealed its fate as the two men both sighted and fired… discharging their weapons repeatedly until the alien finally collapsed in a heap and gradually stopped moving.

Still watching carefully for any signs of motion, Kirk stepped tentatively through a pile of glittering, broken crystalline fragments. The jagged pieces glittered ominously as their multi-faceted edges reflected the subdued lighting, and it was immediately obvious to everyone that the debris from the alien's damaged body had added yet another hazard to an already dangerous room. Noting that his ammunition count was near zero, the Captain dropped the empty magazine out of his rifle and removed another one from his belt. He jammed the fresh clip into the weapon before risking a brief glance back toward Zund. "_What_ rumors have you heard?" he demanded, shouting fiercely at the clearly petrified Andorian. "What _is_ that thing?"

Zund's terrified gaze was momentarily focused on the dead creature, but he shifted his attention immediately back to Kirk upon hearing the Captain's calm but demanding tone. "On my world the existence of this creature is only legend," he began tersely. "No one I know personally has ever seen one. We call it a _Mekhlador_, and it is a very rare animal indeed. My people – along with other neighboring races – believe that this animal is the chief source of the raw materials needed to create the fabrics sold by Tholian merchants."

The Captain suddenly took a renewed interest in the countless, iridescent thread-like strands surrounding him. He shifted the TR-110 to his left shoulder and touched the nearest bunch of them with the fingertips of his right hand. "It would appear that the stories your people tell are true," he frowned, although he still did not completely understand the big picture. "What do _our_ people have to do with all of this… _why_ were they brought here?"

"Because the Tholian economy is an extremely _poor_ one… sometimes nearly _non-existent_," replied Zund. His wide eyes flicked back and forth as he scanned the room for additional signs of movement. "They struggle relentlessly to come up with new products that other races will buy, but that is a constant challenge for them. I think you will agree that the very nature of the extremely hot environment in which they live makes the manufacturing of products useful to most humanoids extremely difficult. That is why they need to produce the highest quality fabric possible… to out perform their competitors."

Kirk was clearly not impressed. "What has _that_ got to do with kidnapping our people?"

Zund exhaled with growing frustration, trying to dispel some of the fear and exasperation still chilling his bones and affecting his judgment. "The thing you killed _is_ apparently _the_ creature that spins the raw materials you see around you… eventually after additional heat treatments these fibers will shrink further and receive dye treatments of varying colors. Eventually after additional processing they are woven into fabrics. Certain factions within the Tholian government – especially their military leaders – are rumored to believe that feeding the blood and meat of certain sentient humanoids to the creature increases the _quality_ of the finished product, especially its _softness_," he continued. "So their military has obviously been granted the leeway to experiment… to apprehend members of different races and test our people."

Eyes widening, Rowan looked sharply toward the Andorian. "They fed _people_ to that thing?"

"Yes." Zund held his pistol protectively out in front of him, even as he worked with his left hand to try and stem Marcus' constant bleeding. "This would appear to be a _testing_ facility… if the fibers from my people or yours prove to be of high enough quality, then the rest of the hostages will eventually be moved to one of their nearby, underground manufacturing facilities. That is where the vast majority of Tholian silk is manufactured… obviously the Tholians would have a much tougher time recreating their native environment on the surface of planets and moons."

"Well their tests are over now," snapped Kirk. "At least here. We killed their Mekhlador, so there's no further need for them to kidnap anyone."

"Captain, I don't think you completely realize what you have _done_," countered Zund. "To my knowledge, no one but us has ever _seen_ one. These creatures are extremely _rare_… the Tholians will surely _kill_ you for what you have done here today."

"They're going to be lucky if _I_ spare _their_ lives for abducting, terrorizing and killing our civilians," insisted Kirk in response. "First we have to get Marcus back to…"

The rest of the sentence died in his throat as a _second_ Mekhlador landed suddenly in front of him. It had been hiding in the ceiling, neatly concealed among bunches of the fabric strewn across the metallic rafters above. The creature emitted a high-pitched shriek and took a step in Kirk's general direction. Warily, he watched its deadly tail drift high into the air and wave angrily back and forth. Rowan emerged suddenly from beside Kirk, stepping protectively in front of his Captain and raising his rifle. "Watch out sir!" the courageous crewman shouted in warning. "There's another one in here!"

"Rowan, _hold_ up!" Kirk raised a hand to grab the security guard but it was already too late. The creature in front of them continued to stand and watch, neatly distracting them. From behind, another tail snaked out of the shadowy area near the central rock face and wrapped itself around Rowan's leg. His weapon fired once as he fell, and then the second Mekhlador was dragging him effortlessly back toward its position. Instantly Kirk whirled and opened fire, sending a barrage of gunfire toward the rock face. He could see sparks and debris fly into the air as the crystalline rock deflected some of his fire, but the creature's tail instantly released Rowan's leg and vanished back where it had come from.

Fortunately Rowan himself was still lying on the ground and facing the other alien, because it charged as soon as it saw the Captain turn to fire at its companion. Rowan fingered the hair trigger on his rifle and sent a prolonged blast of gunfire slicing into the creature's body. Fragmented shards of its shattered abdomen, along with a reddish spray of its water-like blood, blew outward in all directions. The severely wounded alien's attack posture changed instantly to one of defense and it began backing slowly away from them. "Wonderful," the crewman growled irritably. "There are _two_ moreof them!"

Kirk fully intended to respond, but the second creature wasted no time. It scampered swiftly along the web-like strands of fabric and then onto the rock itself. Utilizing all six of its legs with a speed and fluidic motion that was truly impressive, it launched itself into the air, intending to use its superior size and weight to overwhelm the two humans. Kirk's rifle fired repeatedly as it approached, and he blew large holes in its body. Fragmented shards of its heavily damaged outer shell flew in all directions, and its foul smelling, thin blood sprayed across the front of his face and uniform.

Retreating quickly in an attempt to put more distance between himself and his attacker, Kirk stumbled over several intertwined clusters of the crisscrossing fabric. The fibers tightened around his legs, tripping him up and causing him to land awkwardly on his back. The Mekhlador towered over him, but the Captain held onto his courage, still held partially upright by a wall of hair-like strands that were strong enough to support his weight. Controlling his fear, he placed the green targeting laser directly between the alien's 'eyes'. His next burst of weapons fire blew its head completely off, and the creature's heavy body – along with shattering pieces of additional crystalline debris – crashed heavily to the ground. Closing his eyes, Kirk looked away from the dangerous, sharp-edged remnants and waited patiently until the splintering pieces of debris finished settling around his boots.

"It's like shooting glass!" he heard Rowan howl in protest.

"Watch it Rowan, there's still one left!" Kirk called out in warning. "These creatures are lightning _fast_, and they know how to move in this place. The fabric has been deliberately left here to help them move easier and to trip us up."

The security officer responded by opening fire on the other creature, which had emerged from behind the rocks. It persisted in pursuing the pair of humans even after the crewman blew off one of its arms, continuing to move swiftly toward him with a deliberate malevolence. Noticing that Rowan was also stumbling as he tried to run, Kirk leaped back to his feet and added his own firepower to the bursts already tearing into the creature's body. Shrieking with rage, it backed away from them and retreated once again toward the protection and comfort offered by the rocks. "Everything is under control sir," stated a clearly satisfied Rowan.

_That was when a_ fourth_ Mekhlador dropped from the ceiling, landing directly between the two men._

Rowan was smart and experienced enough to know that he and Kirk would have to shoot at each other, so he reacted instantly by rolling out of the Captain's line of fire. Kirk waited just long enough to be certain that Rowan was safe and then resumed firing. He emptied the remainder of the rifle's clip into this newest attacker, then dropped it from the bottom of the hand grip and expertly slammed a fresh one home. He dodged to one side and lost his footing again, landing awkwardly and partially sideways in a wall of the strange fibers. This time there were too many of them to snap, even when he used all of his strength trying to do so. The Tholian creature screamed in triumph and moved to finish him, but Rowan risked a quick burst of gunfire and shattered most of its legs. Collapsing to the floor, the alien beast continued shrieking until a fresh burst of rifle fire from Kirk finished it.

Unfortunately the encounter was not yet over. There was still one injured Mekhlador remaining. Unknown to the two men it had run swiftly behind the rock pile, circling it completely as the humans battled its partners. It emerged from the darkness directly behind Kirk and its tail snaked outward, wrapping around the Captain's waist before he had even the hint of a chance to react. The Captain cried out in surprise as he was yanked violently backward, and the sudden motion abruptly snapped the fibers that still ensnared him. He landed heavily on his back and slid into another bundle of fabric, where the stretching fibers pulled suddenly taut and held him tangled in their midst. Rowan was once again standing, but the creature was waiting for him and its tail flashed outward again, knocking the rifle from his hands and slamming him to the ground. With its clawed feet clattering along the metal floor, the alien closed the remaining distance and descended ferociously toward the helpless security crewman.

Still sitting next to Zund and bleeding profusely, crewman Marcus gathered his remaining strength before raising his rifle and firing. His shots caught the Mekhlador by surprise – it paused in its attack as additional fragmenting pieces of its damaged body jingled against each other and then fell to the floor. The hesitation proved to be its undoing, as a fiercely determined Kirk finally tore free from the newest intertwined tangle of transparent fabric that had temporarily held him fast. With his weapon held firmly pressed against his right shoulder, he opened fire on the fourth creature and continued firing directly into its mid-section until it finally exploded into several large segments. His attack took several concentrated, sustained bursts, but this creature too finally succumbed to the growing number of its injuries. Cut cleanly in half, the crystalline rock fragments crashed to the metal floor with a loud metallic clang.

Rowan picked up his lost, still smoking weapon and smiled gratefully at Kirk. "Captain, you're bleeding," he observed.

Kirk glanced first at the bloody gash on his right forearm, next to the cuts on his hands, then toward the gradually widening pools of alien blood swirling around his boots. "Not as bad as they are," he retorted softly, eyes continuing to shift from the rock face to the dark, empty ceiling above. From somewhere out in the area around the rocks, an area draped almost completely in shadow, a loud metallic clank sounded.

"Do you think there are more than four of them?" he asked suspiciously.

Frowning, Rowan shrugged. "With respect Captain, do we really have to stay and find out?"

Kirk shook his head. "No," he decided flatly. "We've learned everything we needed to in order to certify war crimes. Let's get crewman Marcus out of here so Dr. McCoy can treat his injury."

The Andorian named Zund watched with sincere amazement as the two Starfleet officers retreated cautiously toward his position. "I tell you, the Tholians will make you _pay_ for this," he declared ominously. "Those creatures are worth _more_ to the Tholians than you can possibly imagine!"

"_Not_ if we make them pay for their sins _first_," declared Kirk with clear and obvious disdain.

* * *

Kirk and Rowan each grabbed one of Marcus' arms and hauled him to his feet. After that, it took the three of them only minutes to retrace their steps and back peddle along the empty corridor. The Captain stepped through the partially open doorway first and then Rowan assisted him in easing Marcus through. The crewman had lost a lot of blood, but he was smiling weakly in silent acknowledgement of the outcome of the battle and their continued survival. If there had been more time, the Captain would have first made certain that the civilian prisoners outside were moved out of sight. He didn't want to confirm their worst fears about what had been happening inside the central dome by displaying a bloody, gravely injured crewman, but the severe nature of Marcus' wound left him no choice.

"I think… I'm going into shock," Marcus guessed wanly, with the ghost of a smile playing along his pale white features. "Feel warm… flushed… ready to pass out even. It's… really good thing you don't need me to shoot now… accuracy… unpredictable."

The Captain chuckled at the brave man's courage, but the growing concern on his own face clearly showed. "You only shot _once_, Marcus," he told the security officer. "And fortunately for us, you did so when it counted the _most_."

Rushing forward, McCoy snapped his medical kit open. "What in _blazes_ happened in there Jim?" he demanded heatedly, doubt and fear clouding his features. He directed Kirk and Rowan to place Marcus in a sitting position, and then carefully examined the punctures on the front and back of his torso.

"I'll tell you later Bones," promised Kirk. "Trust me, it'll help matters considerably if you have a stiff drink in front of you." He scanned the habitat area curiously, searching for any sign of Chekov. When he finally located the young Ensign standing at the base of one of the ramps leading down from an airlock, his eyes widened with surprise. Chekov held his pistol ready and was watching over the dead body of a green-skinned, reptilian Gorn. The alien was lying face down in a gradually drying pool of blood. "I see we're not the only ones who have been busy," observed the Captain with interest.

"Two of them tried to attack us after you entered the inner corridor," stated Chekov informatively. "They were unprepared for armed prisoners, and the other one fled as soon as I shot his colleague." He glanced up the ramp toward the closed, inner airlock door. "I verified that he took their shuttle and left… so far the Tholians have attempted nothing else."

The hiss of McCoy's hypospray snapped the Captain back to the matter at hand. "I've just given Marcus an anti-biotic to fight infection," the Doctor noted. "I also sprayed a topical on both sides of his body, but we're going to need to thoroughly bind his wound in order to prevent further blood loss."

Surprisingly, Zund had become almost protective of the young crewman – the Andorian was holding a bandage McCoy had given him tightly against the young man's abdomen. Spots of wet blood were already dotting its surface, having soaked completely through from the other side. Rowan was holding a bandage against the injury on Marcus' back side, watching patiently while the Doctor unrolled a length of bandage and began winding it expertly around the crewman's body. After circling the wrap around Marcus more than a dozen times, McCoy tied it off and took a moment to flash Kirk a satisfied nod.

The Captain's expression betrayed his growing concern. "How bad?" he asked tentatively.

"He's okay for now, but I need to get him back to the _Enterprise_," noted McCoy intensely. "Fortunately, whatever ran him through missed his vital organs. But Jim, we _can't_ wait long or the blood he's already lost may cause major complications… he's _very_, very weak. He needs blood."

Kirk's gaze returned briefly to the dead Gorn, and this time he noticed the plain, light brown civilian clothing that it had chosen to wear. He uttered a silent oath, having no doubt in his mind that the alien had deliberately selected the outfit instead of a military one. By doing so, his government was essentially off the hook – its representatives could claim that any Gorn discovered within Tholian territory were 'rogue' outcasts and not in any way connected with the sovereign government. "I'll do my best Bones," he promised sincerely. "However, it remains to be seen just what the Tholians will permit us to do. Our successful return from inside their death trap will certainly not embolden them to assist us."

The gray-haired, muscular form of Captain Bernard Ridge suddenly rounded the nearest corner and approached Kirk. A concerned Chaplain Thomson followed close behind. "What is going on here?" asked Ridge curiously. "_Why_ is your man injured?"

Although he recognized that the commander of the _Aldebaran Queen_ was obviously hurting emotionally, sudden annoyance flared within Kirk. "You were _supposed_ to remain with your transport group Captain Ridge. When we leave this place, my people are going to need to move quickly in order to recover everyone." His eyes flashed over Ridge's shoulder to the Chaplain, and he noticed the preacher shrug helplessly. "Please return to your assigned posts immediately."

"I'm truly sorry Captain… I only wanted to check on your progress and verify that everything was all right." McCoy's earlier medication treatment had clearly done its job, since Ridge's confidence had so obviously returned.

"We've temporarily neutralized the threat at the center of this complex. Please return to your designated transport site," said Kirk in response. He was not in the habit of repeating himself, and his temper began to slowly fester.

This time it was Ridge who felt anger, and it showed very clearly on his face. "Captain, _I_ am responsible for the safety of my crew and passengers," Ridge protested fervently. "I really think you should let me know what you're planning."

"If responsibility is your concern, then I hope you fully understand that I am responsible for getting _everyone_ who is still alive safely off of this planetoid," snapped Kirk. His flashing eyes burned with defiance, and he stared Ridge down sternly but professionally. "I cannot safely do that without your _complete_ cooperation on this matter."

Chaplain Thomson put a dark-sleeved hand on Ridge's shoulder. "Perhaps we should do as Captain Kirk says, Bernard," he said softly. "You don't want to inadvertently prevent anyone from getting rescued."

"I have only Kirk's _word_ that he can in fact get us out of here," Ridge retorted heatedly. His frustration and anger lasted a few seconds longer before his courage faltered and he refocused temporarily on the _Enterprise_ Captain. "Very well," he decided. "We will wait a while longer… but _only_ a while." The two men from the passenger liner turned and returned along the corridor, vanishing around its curve.

Kirk watched them go quietly, with more respect displayed in his expression than he personally felt. "Bones, if Captain Ridge leaves his assigned post again… _sedate_ him."

"Jim, don't you think…"

"I'm not kidding," the Captain interrupted, flashing McCoy a look that would have melted dry ice. "That's an _order_. We're getting these people out of here, and I'm not going to let that man's unpredictability and recklessness destroy our chances."

After years of serving together, the Doctor knew when Kirk had rendered a final decision. "So what's the next step?" he asked inquisitively.

Kirk responded by crossing the hall toward the shining, amber-hued one-way mirror that circled the complex just below the airlock ramps. "I don't know if you can hear us," he stated bluntly, addressing the wall directly. "But we would like permission to take our shuttle back to our starship. You can see for yourselves… we have a wounded crewman to attend to."

"_We are listening_."

The odd, obviously translated electronic voice responded to his direct approach almost immediately. Kirk smiled dryly at the comment by the hidden Tholian. "Listening and clearly watching us too," he added. "Are there any objections to our taking the _Columbus_ back to _Enterprise?_"

"_We have no objections if you wish to attend to your injured crewman_," was the prompt reply. "_Your starship is going nowhere. However, you should know that the Andorian was not completely accurate in his statements regarding our Mekhladors. We have learned how to breed them much more quickly these days than in past years. Replacements are already on the way, and there is nowhere for you and your ship to go. So we _want_ you to save his life because sooner or later you will all move to the center of this complex, and this time we plan to withhold food and water for everyone until you hand over your strange weapons and follow ALL of our instructions precisely_."

Kirk said nothing further. He crossed the corridor and returned to where McCoy still held a weakened crewman Marcus in his arms and leaned cautiously over the two men. "Let's move Marcus back to the _Columbus_," he whispered softly. "We'll take one of the transport teams along with us, and then we're going to get the hell out of this damned place."

"Amen to that," agreed McCoy.


	15. Duet

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Duet

* * *

**

_Enterprise_ NX-01, Inside Tholian Space, July 29, 2268

* * *

As soon as shuttle pod one returned successfully to _Enterprise_, it took only a moment before the hatch snapped open. Jonathan Archer perked up immediately upon hearing the distinctive sound of a dog barking amidst a series of cheering shouts. With the sole exception of Travis Mayweather, he and the others had taken the time to cut themselves free of their environmental suits during the ride back from the Tholian home world. It was therefore easy for the Captain to reach the open doorway first and jump down toward the deck plating below. "Porthos!" he shouted with welcome recognition as the happy beagle left Malcolm Reed's side and skittered quickly across the metal floor toward his owner. He dropped to one knee and hugged the dog as soon as it reached him, scratching the small animal warmly behind both ears.

"He really missed you sir," reported Reed, flashing his usual, thin smile. He was flanked by at least a dozen other members of the crew – probably everyone currently off-shift. "You took all of the people who usually watch him along with you, so he got rather cranky in a hurry. We even had him up on the bridge for awhile – being around other people helped him get over the separation anxiety."

"Porthos…on the bridge?" Archer glanced toward the Lieutenant with genuine amusement. "Now _that_ I would have liked to have seen for myself," he decided with a light chuckle.

Rising to his feet, the Captain continued to hug the small dog tightly while others from his mission team followed him out of the shuttle. His eyes, however, never left Malcolm's face. "I trust everything went well here during our absence?"

"Things went just fine sir," Reed nodded, relieved to have a positive assessment ready. "However, we did have to initiate a course change just now to take _Enterprise_ away from the Tholian system," he admitted. "I left orders with the current, on-duty bridge crew to begin moving us back out into deep space the instant you landed. We had very little choice in the matter… ever since your photonic torpedo detonated, this region of space has attracted a great deal of attention."

"Let me guess," responded Archer dryly. "Many of the ships that were previously stationed elsewhere are now moving back toward this star system."

"Affirmative." Reed's response was directed toward the Captain, but he smiled with relief upon recognizing friendly faces from the rest of the mission team. "Since the home world is currently on the opposite side of the star, we were safe for a brief time. However, more military ships are moving into the area with each passing minute and some of them are beginning patrol patterns that spiral outwards. We had no choice but to move as soon as you landed… it's only a matter of time now before they begin scanning the outer planets. You left specific instructions for us to avoid detection."

"What is our current course?"

"We're angling gradually back toward friendly territory in the general direction of the Agni white dwarf." Reed studied the dark black angles of the recently returned shuttle pod, noting that the small craft had sustained no visual damage during its perilous journey. "It looks like everything went well for you too, sir."

"Things went better than I expected they would when we began our journey," admitted Archer. He lowered Porthos carefully to the floor and let the dog scamper swiftly ahead of them. Periodically the small animal paused to turn and bark expectantly at the group, urging them to follow him away from the cold, barely pressurized hangar bay. "It remains to be seen if anything we've done will result in anything positive." He studied Janeway and Sisko intently, with dozens of possibilities running rampant through his mind. "So what do we do now?" he asked the pair curiously. "Are we supposed to just return to our timeframe, forget all of this, and resume our former mission of rousting pirates?"

"That would be best," stated Janeway calmly, but her own gaze was busy assessing Archer. "Somehow, though, I sincerely doubt that you'll follow our recommended course of action."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because you and your crew are invested now in what happens here," replied Sisko. His dark eyes sparkled with a burning, internal fire. "You see, we Captains learn how to read each other. You wouldn't _be_ in command of this starship if you weren't committed to doing everything possible to make a difference. And right now I think you believe you're in a position to do just that."

"I have… concerns," admitted Archer. He motioned toward two crewmen standing next to the dark black hull of the shuttle pod. "Please assist Ensign Mayweather in removing his EVA suit," he instructed them. "We're going to need him back on the bridge, steering the ship before this is over."

Archer had been headed out into the corridor, but he stopped suddenly in his tracks and whirled to face Janeway. His stern gaze remained focused on her as he attempted to gauge her reaction. As usual, the _Voyager_ Captain remained virtually unflappable. "Don't question your judgment Jonathan. Time travel is the biggest gray area there has ever been. Ask us what you need to know," she suggested.

He paused, sizing her up for a moment longer before deciding to take her up on the offer. "During the shuttle ride, I kept thinking about what happens to that other ship… to that other _Enterprise_." He frowned with deep concern. "They must have made quite a splash out there to draw attention away from this area and leave the Tholian star system so vulnerable to enemy penetration. So I can't help but wonder – _what_ specifically happens to that other ship and its crew?"

"They're on a _rescue_ mission," noted Sisko in response. "During this month, dozens of innocent civilians were attacked and abducted by the Tholians. They did so with a dual purpose in mind, the first of which was to test Starfleet's defenses and assess their reaction to aggressive, repeated infiltration."

"And the second factor motivating them…"

The expression on Janeway's face instantly became more subdued. "The Tholians were doing the usual evil things that some races seem irresistibly drawn to – experimentation on innocent, living beings to test our physical strengths and weaknesses. They also had some… additional… dark and sinister motives that I won't bother detailing at this point. Suffice it to say that, within a week or two, Starfleet will accuse them of war crimes and file a formal complaint with their government. There will be a brief military stand-off along the border before the Tholians finally decide to back down. So the incident taking place here with the other starship is yet another pivotal time in Starfleet's storied history."

"What happens to that other _Enterprise?_" Archer asked again.

The red-haired _Voyager_ Captain smiled reassuringly at her 22nd century counterpart. "They're running with a skeleton crew right now, moving deep behind enemy lines," she pointed out. "Their mission ends in success… they manage to rescue all of the hostages who are still alive, but they pay a heavy price for that victory. The ship takes heavy damage on the way out, and her crew will suffer casualties."

Reed had been listening curiously, and was also very interested in learning more about the strange, enigmatic Tholians. "Didn't the other vessel's Captain plan an escape route before ordering his ship into such a dangerous area of space?"

"Of course he did," stated Janeway wryly. "However, nothing ever goes completely as planned, especially during combat situations. Starfleet Intelligence was completely unaware that the Tholians have developed a sophisticated dampening field technology. Therefore, the _Enterprise_ will lose – has lost – contact with the other two ships in its task force." She inhaled deeply and sighed with frustration. "Both the _Hood_ and the _Potemkin_ are searching for them right now, but unfortunately their sensors won't locate the _Enterprise_ until it's already heavily damaged and well on its way out of Tholian space. Captain Kirk was supposed to transmit location coordinates after he allowed his vessel to be captured, but he was unable to do so."

Thinking the matter over carefully, Archer's jaw tightened firmly. "_We_ could do something," he suggested. "_This_ ship is already in the perfect position to provide covert assistance." Standing near the exit, Porthos grew frustrated with his owner's refusal to approach him. Frustrated, the small golden brown dog padded warily back toward his master and glanced up at him with soft, pleading eyes. The Captain chuckled and then leaned down to pick up his pet beagle. He held the dog in his arms for a moment, enjoying the feel of the animal's warmth against his skin.

"_If_ we intervene, we have to do so carefully," Sisko cautioned him. "Tampering with history at any point in time is quite obviously dangerous. It becomes even more risky during 'crux events' such as this one. Thanks to you and your crew, Data has gotten what he wanted. So his _implied_ instructions to us would naturally be to guide you back to the Agni dwarf and assist you in returning promptly to your own century. The fact that he has allowed us to remain here tells me that he's leaving the final decision up to us. But we have to be fully prepared for the consequences… time travel raises a large number of ethical challenges. For instance, do we have the _right_ to help minimize casualties on the other Starfleet vessel if some of those who would have lived – without our intervention – now die?"

"In other words, we may assist them in surviving with minimal casualties, but we could inadvertently kill off someone else who is critically important to our history in the process."

"Exactly. I myself inadvertently participated in such an event in Earth's past. I ended up having to resort to extreme measures in order to preserve history. Data has worked hard to insure that Starfleet will continue to exist for centuries, but it is up to us to define specifically how that new history unfolds."

Both Tucker and T'Pol had joined the small conference, moving to stand next to Reed. "I too have wondered why Data has not yet returned the two of you to your own time," stated the female Subcommander with interest. "We still possess all the telemetry from our first warp speed breakaway and are fully capable of returning without additional assistance."

"I don't know," admitted Janeway cautiously. "Once he successfully recorded the pentatonic scale he was searching for, Data supposedly gained the capability to return us back through time and space. I do not know what he is waiting for."

"Perhaps he _wants_ you to continue to help us," Tucker proposed boldy. "I think we were _meant_ to provide assistance to that other starship."

"Don't get ahead of yourself Trip," cautioned Archer. "Don't read what you want to see into this."

"Data is not the type of individual who generally leaves behind loose ends," decided Sisko. "However, until he chooses to come back for us and return us to our own home, Captain Janeway and I have definitely become just that… loose ends."

Reed put a strong hand on Archer's shoulder. 'I suggest that we tread _very_ carefully," the _Enterprise_ tactical officer decided warily. "Our scans of those Tholian vessels out there clearly show that they possess sophisticated plasma-based weaponry and fully functional deflector shielding. Just _one_ of their vessels, in this century with their current level of technology, could easily destroy us."

"They can do so _only_ if we get caught," replied Archer, still holding a contented Porthos comfortably in his folded arms. "Thanks primarily to us, many of the enemy ships that were previously stationed elsewhere are now on their way back. If we're careful, we can use this situation to our advantage. There are lots of ways we could provide assistance _without_ revealing our presence here."

Listening carefully, Reed nodded in acknowledgement. "Agreed."

Archer turned to face Ensign Sato. "Hoshi, I'd like to talk to you," he told her. "I've got an idea in mind, but I need you to run some preliminary tests for me first to insure it's going to work."

She exhaled slowly, blowing a lock of dark hair away from her dirty, sweat-soaked forehead. "I can be back on the bridge in twenty minutes sir. I'd like to take a shower first."

He smiled at her. "I know you're dirty, but time is of the essence. Shower later."

Sato rolled her eyes in the general direction of Trip Tucker and he smiled at her reaction. "The things I do for this ship," the youthful, dark-haired Ensign said with obvious exasperation.

* * *

Less than an hour later, Lt. Malcolm Reed walked into Sickbay hefting a large phaser rifle. After the long trip, Phlox had returned to his familiar home away from home and was currently contenting himself with feeding all of the animals that lived there. "Ah, Lt. Reed," the Doctor acknowledged with a welcoming smile. "Are you planning on fighting in a war?"

"Perhaps." The Lieutenant smiled thinly, watching Phlox proceed from cage to cage as he fed his animals. "I just wanted to let you know that Captain Archer has ordered armed guards placed in key areas on all decks. So don't be surprised if some of them check in on you periodically."

The Doctor paused long enough to look puzzled. "Why?"

Shrugging, Reed strode a few meters farther into the room. "We're going to remain in enemy territory for awhile yet," he continued. "The Captain doesn't expect to take us into combat – not against an enemy whose technology is decades ahead of our own. However, he wants security prepared, just in case something unexpected occurs and we get boarded."

"Well, your people won't bother me," declared Phlox with a sigh. "Or my animals. Unfortunately, since everyone who usually feeds them accompanied me on the mission, they're already quite hungry and extremely agitated. I think it may be another hour or two before I can calm them down."

"I didn't have a lot of time to spare, but did manage to stop by once or twice," pointed out Malcolm. He leaned forward, trying to see the caged, squealing creature that the Doctor was trying to calm down with a soft, warbling whistle. "I tried to feed that small dragon you've got over in the corner…"

Phlox chuckled. "My Alterian bat?"

"Yes," harrumphed Reed. "I only allowed each one to bite me once. If your animals chose to attack instead of trust, they went hungry."

"Quite obviously," stated Phlox with a noticeable frown of disapproval. "Although the venom from the bat bite will thin your blood significantly for the next few days. I wonder… do you still consider a bite from one of my pets an attack if you receive healthful benefits from the incident?"

"Yes," Reed decided without hesitation.

"Well then," Phlox responded with amusement. "There's nothing I can do about that." He looked Reed carefully up and down, studying the Captain's tactical officer watchfully. "How come you're so dirty? Your uniform looks _terrible_ Lieutenant."

Glancing down at his shirt, Reed chuckled lightly at the comment. "Oh," he said in reply. "I've been pulling double duty, helping Commander Tucker remove all of that black material from the shuttle pod's exterior hull. Apparently, it doesn't come off as easily as Captain Janeway promised us it would and Trip asked me to lend a hand." He paused for a moment longer, waiting patiently until Phlox noticed and looked up at him. "What was it like Doctor?" asked the Lieutenant curiously. "What was it _like_ standing on the surface of the Tholian home world?"

The Doctor set down the tray of live grub worms he had been using to feed the larger animals. "During my time serving aboard _Enterprise_, I have seen and done things unlike anything I ever imagined," he admitted. "Nothing, however, even comes close to the journey that I just completed." He shook his head with true amazement, remembering vividly the details of the recent mission. "If not for the protection offered to us by Captain Janeway's strange substances, we would have burnt to a cinder instantly. Instead, we were able to land a working shuttle on a world with an atmosphere heated to nearly 450 degrees Kelvin. Then we walked along the surface of a planet through an environment more hostile than any I have previously encountered. It was a truly remarkable experience, to say the least."

"I've seen the telemetry," admitted Reed. "That planet is as close to a Demon as we've yet seen."

"Demon?" Phlox glanced over his shoulder inquisitively.

"Class Y planets are sometimes referred to as Demons at Starfleet," Malcolm informed him. "Their surface temperatures reach levels even higher than what you experienced, and there are also thermionic radiation discharges to deal with. Attaining standard orbit around such a planet for even a short duration would be a difficult challenge for _Enterprise_…" He trailed off slowly, lost in thought. "I wish I could have been there with you," stated Reed honestly. "I wish I could have seen that world for myself."

"It's not like we failed to bring back pictures," noted Phlox. "The imaging systems in our helmets recorded everything." He smiled at the memories. "Commander Tucker had to leave his portable camera behind on this occasion, but the rest of our technology functioned exactly as expected."

"Perhaps, when we're safely back in our own time and moving through friendly territory, you'll let me see that footage," suggested Reed.

"Certainly," the Doctor said agreeably. "But you'd better check with the Captain and make certain he doesn't plan on transmitting the data to Starfleet before you have a chance to view it. Given the unusual conditions surrounding this mission, I'm certain that anything turned over to them would immediately be classified and thereby unavailable to even Starfleet officers."

"I hadn't thought of that." Thoughts of endless, bureaucratic security protocols swarmed through Malcolm's mind. Images from the surface of a planet that they never should have visited, from a century they never should have traveled to… Starfleet Intelligence certainly wouldn't want just anyone to access documentary footage of that nature. They would want to keep the crew's presence, along with every last detail of their time spent in Tholian space, a classified matter. Reed's expression clouded with concern at the prospect… he began to wonder just how much he had missed out on by remaining behind.

"Don't worry," Phlox stated reassuringly. "I'm keeping a copy of the video from my own suit for my own private records. Once it's transferred into my personal database, my diplomatic status as a resident alien will prevent Starfleet from confiscating it."

"Doctor, you _know_ you shouldn't tell me anything…"

"I trust _you_ Malcolm." Cheerfully, the Doctor returned his attention to his panicking animals.

* * *

Delta Quadrant, February 25, 2154, Aboard the _U.S.S. Relativity

* * *

_

The Timeship _Relativity_ dropped out of warp just short of the massive debris field surrounding the former location of the Borg uni-complex. Even so, Ducane ordered his crew to maintain full deflector shield status as the 29th century starship eased gradually inside the perimeter. Lt. Jessica Ingram efficiently reported no trace of further Borg activity in the sector – all ships that remained functional had long since fled the area and the astonishing power of the enhanced Xindi super weapon in order to insure their own continued survival.

"The amount of debris here is truly astonishing… at least 1,500 Borg vessels _died_ here today," Ingram noted with an expression bordering on awe. "When you factor in the added drone complement and sheer size of the uni-complex…"

"Because we were delayed, Soran finally enacted his revenge," Ducane finished with a wry shake of his head. "Why Data… _why_ would you allow this to happen?" he asked no one in particular.

Ingram swiveled in her seat and faced him, her own demeanor still awed by the amount of destruction. "At least part of his reasoning was to spare _us_," she told him. "There is simply _no_ way we could have survived an attack if Soran chose to strike first instead of negotiate. Not from _that_ weapon." She folded her arms confidently to reaffirm with body language her stated words. "He would have pursued us until he had a clear shot, even through our cloak…"

Listening to her, thoughts of duty and honor ran through Ducane's mind. "We all swear an oath to die for Starfleet and the ongoing survival of the Federation if the need arises," he reminded himself. "However, that does not obligate us to casually throw our lives away on a mission doomed to failure. I think that is at least one message we have been sent today by our former commander." Watching the still smoldering metallic pieces of debris crisscrossing the viewscreen and the colossal, surrounding radiation fields, the Captain's mind returned swiftly to the matter at hand. "Jess, have you been able to re-establish contact with our friends in the 29th century yet?"

She frowned and shook her head in response. "Negative. The channel cleared for about five seconds… long enough for someone on the other end to receive my hail. Then the transmission was terminated from the other side. So we know that someone is still there with active equipment, but for reasons unknown they don't want to talk to us right now…"

"Who knows what the destruction of the Borg has done to the people and status of our home century," finished Ensign Murry, growing doubt clouding her attractive features. "Our home could be gone again, just like during the crisis with the Sentinel. That mission was a difficult enough nut to crack… how do we possibly fix _this?_"

"Relax Ensign," Ducane suggested, a little more forcefully than he had at first intended. His own internal fears had also escalated upon hearing the latest news. Although fully trained and experienced in dealing with such matters, he was beginning to find the current situation somewhat daunting. Each time they successfully faced and confronted a crisis, it seemed as though his crew of temporal time police from the 29th century were promptly presented with an even stranger, larger challenge.

"The Borg may have suffered a catastrophic blow today, but not a fatal one," Ingram reported suddenly. She had returned her focus to the sensor console and was studying fresh readings. "The subspace band that the Collective uses to communicate with ships throughout all four quadrants of this galaxy remains stable and fully active. That means the Queen is still alive and out there somewhere, fully capable of reorganizing her surviving ships and star systems." Glancing back at Ducane, she flashed him a wry smile. "And all of us know full well that what the Borg lose, they can replace through assimilation."

Standing close behind Ingram, Ducane rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Can you pinpoint her location?" he asked curiously. "I can assure you that the Queen will be Soran's next target. It's no accident that he chose to attack and destroy the uni-complex. Except for occasional, special missions that require her personal attention, she's usually here."

"I'll do my best sir," promised Ingram. "However, the Queen has a preferred policy of deliberately withholding her personal identification protocols except for very rare circumstances in order to _avoid_ giving away her location. That means some good old fashioned detective work is in order. Perhaps we can create a situation that will force her attention back to this location. She's _got_ to be interested in a full analysis of residual energy patterns from the weapon that wreaked such havoc on her Collective."

Frank Roberts descended suddenly from his previous location along the upper, starboard walkway. "Perhaps I can provide some assistance," he suggested. "I have managed to gain full access rights to the Preserver network. That should allow me to easily discover her current whereabouts."

Shrugging indifferently, Ducane remained focused. "Have you found Data yet?"

"Negative. I have submitted a high priority page in your name, requesting that he communicate with you immediately," the android replied immediately. "Other than that, there is nothing more that I can do. He will choose to respond or choose not to."

"Then we can definitely use your help with the Borg situation," admitted Ducane, taking a frustrated deep breath and releasing his repressed emotion slowly. As a First Officer, the Captain had formed a unique and special friendship with Data, a bond of trust that he had relied upon during his time spent serving under the android's command. The presence of the android Roberts was a constant reminder that Data had moved on to other things, and that his new motives as a resident of subspace might now possibly compromise the best interests of Starfleet. During his time commanding the _Relativity_, Ducane had never felt more conflict. He still fully trusted Data to do the right thing, but he wasn't exactly pleased with the fact that the former starship Captain was establishing a pattern of acting without first consulting others. _Even an android can screw up on occasion_, he thought fiercely to himself. _I sure hope Data hasn't done so on this occasion_.

"What bothers me," continued Roberts, "is that I have also discovered foreign transmissions subtly interacting with the Borg subspace buffer. Astonishingly, they are _Preserver_ signals."

Stiffening instantly in her chair, Ingram swiveled again. "The subspace network?" she asked.

Roberts nodded slowly. "Someone unknown to us is using the Preserver network to eavesdrop on the Borg… possibly even subtly influence the decision-making process of the Collective," he reported informatively. "Whoever is doing this has hidden their identity very well, and it appears to me as though they are actually nudging the Queen towards objectives of their own. Thus far, they have managed to do so completely without her knowledge. If I do some additional 'detective work' of my own, I should be able to pinpoint _their_ location as well."

"Who would want to manipulate the Borg? To what end?" Ducane looked completely astonished.

"At this time, I do not know," said Roberts. "The only reason that I noticed the electronic tampering is because I happened to be conducting a detailed study of the Borg communication network. I was searching for signals linked directly to the Queen as she attempts to reorganize the remnants of her fleet. Their many home worlds in the surrounding sectors remain undamaged, but the number of remaining, functional space based vessels in this vicinity has decreased substantially today."

"Wasn't Data's new 'Starfleet Protocol' supposed to prevent abuses like eavesdropping?" Ingram stated firmly, clearly agitated by the news. "If the Borg ever _detected_ evidence that they were being manipulated…" The color drained from her face. "They could _discover _the existence of the Preserver network, just like Data did."

"The new protocols recently activated by Data _should_ have prevented or blocked use of these intrusive signals," Roberts agreed. "That is why we need to speak to Data as soon as possible. Otherwise we will be acting on our own, and our actions could conflict with his."

Ducane reviewed the new information for a moment, thinking the matter over carefully. "If you can, find out _where_ those Preserver transmissions are coming from," he ordered sternly. "Give _us_ the location of the Queen, and this ship will handle her and Soran. Once you also have coordinates to the site where the tampering with the Collective is taking place, I want you, Jean-Luc Picard, and James Kirk to take a shuttle and investigate."

"Aye," nodded the android, accepting the assignment without question, as though he had never been away from Starfleet and living more than five million years in its future.

* * *

It took Frank Roberts only ten minutes to locate the Borg Queen, but substantially longer to pinpoint the source of the strange, Preserver communication signals interacting with the Collective's own subspace buffer. When he did, he immediately transferred the telemetry from the starboard walkway's command interface with the _Relativity_'s main computer to Lt. Ingram's station. Then he nodded in acknowledgement toward Captain Ducane before walking into the turbolift in search of Kirk and Picard.

"Who would be interested in the Borg Collective?" asked Ensign Murry curiously. "To what end?"

Deep in thought, Ducane considered her question. "Considering how vast the Preserver network is and how long it has existed – will exist…" he trailed off with dismay. "It could literally be anybody."

Ingram had been working steadily, and she finally nodded with satisfaction. "The Queen is close enough to reach with standard engines, sir," she reported crisply. "She's an hour away at warp 9.9."

"Initiate interception course," said Ducane without hesitation.

The Lieutenant moved her fingers to input the necessary instructions into her console. Before she could act, however, alarm lights blazed bright red in response to a proximity alert. Glancing down at the short range sensors, Ingram smiled. "Contact from the 29th century," she stated triumphantly. "Another Timeship has just crossed back into this century and is flanking us to port."

"We're being hailed," said Ensign Murry with a smile.

"Put the incoming transmission on screen please." Relief surged through Ducane… allies from the future meant that he had other resources and opinions to draw upon. Then the viewscreen switched its image to a display of the other starship's bridge.

_They were looking at Data in a Captain's uniform. In front of him, a duplicate Ducane wore a Commander's uniform and Jessica Ingram's counterpart bore the insignia of a Lieutenant._

"_Greetings_," said the image of Data on the viewscreen. "_My name is Data, Captain of the _Relativity_. Who are you and what right do you have to be here, tampering with our history?_" He studied the image of their bridge carefully.

"_Authentication of their earlier transmissions and identification codes is complete Captain,_" stated the other Jess Ingram on the viewscreen. "_That ship also appears to be the_ Relativity_… although, without further study, I cannot determine whether it's from our past or future_."

Captain Ducane's jaw dropped in shock – he simply stared at the viewscreen for a few seconds and its slightly altered mirror view of his own bridge, unsure of what to say in response. Finding a duplicate Timeship at this point in their mission simply didn't make sense – they hadn't done anything to his knowledge that would allow Soran to trap them. "Status report please," he requested dryly. "I've already heard what _they_ have to say, but I'd like an analysis of our own, if you don't mind."

"The identification signal coming from the other Timeship confirms that it _is_ in fact the _Relativity_… it does appear that they are indeed _us_," said Ensign Murry with noticeable concern.

Ducane's eyes shifted back to Ingram. "Could we be caught in a causal loop of some sort?" he theorized. "Is this interference of some kind deliberately created by Dr. Soran?"

His First Officer had said nothing so far and continued working swiftly to scan the other ship in a detailed attempt to discern specifically what was taking place. "This isn't right Captain," Ingram reported finally. "This isn't right at all… with Captain Data still running things over there, at first glance that looks to be an earlier version of us. However, the temporal signature on their hull plating dates that version of the _Relativity_ at an _identical_ age with our own ship."

"Are you certain?" Ducane's jaw dropped as he studied the other Data, Ingram, and duplicate of himself on the viewscreen. All three of them in turn were staring directly at him, particularly the four Captain's pips on the top of his uniform. "That would suggest they're from an alternate timeline, and that future history has somehow been changed."

"_They are indeed from an alternate timeline, just not YOURS_." The familiar voice from behind him caused the Captain to turn suddenly. An isomorphic projection of Data – slightly transparent – had appeared at the rear of the bridge. "_Nor are they from your past or future. This_ Relativity _has come directly from the 29__th__ century in response to your real time request to communicate_."

"_Data!_" Ducane exclaimed with a relieved sigh. "It's about time Mister… we really need to know what you've been up to. You've been acting alone again and things are really getting confusing in a hurry. You've got to _stop_ doing this to us!"

"_I assure you, I had no choice Captain Ducane. If my attempt was unsuccessful, I did not want to risk you having knowledge you should not possess_."

On the viewscreen, the other Timeship's Captain Data peered more closely at the weakened image of his isomorphic counterpart. "_What exactly is taking place on your vessel?_" he inquired curiously. "_Is that really me, and if so how come I am only partially visible?_"

Ducane held up a hand and motioned for silence. "Jess, I need some answers," he demanded sternly.

Her mind whirling with possibilities, Ingram impulsively held up a portable tricorder and began to scan herself. She looked at the results with dismay and then directed the device in Ducane's direction. "Captain, you are not going to _believe_ this…" she began, her words fading as the full truth promptly revealed itself to her.

Ducane's attention remained focused on the sudden, isomorphic appearance of their subspace colleague. "How can your statement be accurate?" he asked Data inquisitively. "If what you say about the other Timeship is true, then the only remaining possibility is that they are life forms from a mirror universe… people who have inadvertently strayed into our own."

"No sir," Ingram corrected him, waving the portable scanner in front of her. "There is another option. I'm detecting a residual, electromagnetic flux radiating outward from the bio-matter of everyone on this bridge," she informed him. "In all likelihood, that other ship didn't cross over into our universe. Believe it or not sir, _we_ seem to have somehow ended up in _theirs_…"

The news hit Ducane like a bombshell and he stared at the projection of Data while memories of the _Relativity_'s most recent confrontation with Soran poured through his head. "The electronic _barrier_ we passed through earlier," he gasped as he too managed to grasp what was happening. "_That_ was why the Borg cube attacking us appeared to simply vanish. You somehow moved Soran's two ships and ours into an alternate universe… to wherever it is we currently are."

"_Precisely_," nodded the fluctuating, partially visible image of Data.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:** Please don't panic! The revelations at the end of this Chapter may seem a little confusing at first glance, but that's to be expected. My goal was to guide the reader slowly toward the full truth on a journey matching Ducane's... with the realizations coming suddenly and hitting hard. Don't worry if you can't yet figure out everything... Certainly what is happening will be more fully explained next Chapter._


	16. Treachery, Faith & The Great River

_**Author's Notes: **I generally outline all of the major plot points in a story before beginning, and also make a habit of being fair to the reader. I never enjoyed much stories that constantly teased and tempted, poked and prodded, but never actually ended up providing any useful explanations as to the various mysteries taking place. I do not like feeling cheated. Therefore, this Chapter is the key that I worked hard on and hope brings everything together, providing some much needed clarity to the reader. Three major questions will be answered before you reach the end of this Chapter:_

_ (1) Why did Data send the NX-01 crew to the Tholian home world?_

_ (2) How do the NX-01 (Archer) and NCC-1701 (Kirk) storylines fit in with the overall Soran/Borg conflict._

_ (3) Why did a duplicate of the _U.S.S. Relativity_ show up at the end of the most recent Chapter?_

_At first I was concerned about how to present the characters who are mirrors. But at that time my outline was still mostly notes. If you paid close attention at the end of last chapter, you should have noticed that the mirror _Relativity_ is still commanded by Data, with Commander Ducane still serving as his First Officer. So that is how you should read and identify the 'mirror' characters... CAPTAIN Ducane remains in command of the _U.S.S. Relativity_ we have been following since the beginning of this story._

_Sincerely, I hope this chapter works for you. It answers A LOT of questions and directly sets up a sprint toward the inevitable conclusion of this story._

* * *

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Treachery, Faith & The Great River

* * *

**

Delta Quadrant, February 25, 2154, Site of the 'Unlikely Rendezvous'

* * *

Cruising through space, the two Timeships named _Relativity_ moved, side by side, through the massive debris field left over from Doctor Tolian Soran's earlier battle with the Borg. Faced with one too many mysteries to resolve, Captain Ducane had chosen to act immediately and decisively. His first task was to extend a formal invitation to the command team from the other Timeship. He politely requested that they join him aboard his vessel. The second decision he made was to request that 'isomorphic Data' transfer his image to a nearby conference room. "The time has come, if you'll excuse the pun," stated Ducane matter of factly, "for you to fully explain yourself. I want some answers Data." Astonishingly, the former android Captain had instantly agreed to provide details and respond to all questions posed.

Even so, the expected explanation did not come immediately. Jessica Ingram's ongoing sensor readings confirmed her initial report – that their Timeship, along with Soran's two vessels, had indeed somehow been transported out of their own universe and into another. The alternate reality that they had ended up in was an extremely interesting one, especially given that its history appeared to be virtually identical to the crew's home universe. Therefore Ducane spent a moment conversing privately with the projection of Data, at which point he stated his intention to provide specifications and fully brief his 29th century counterparts on the existence and purpose of the Preserver subspace network. It was a controversial move, but Captain Ducane truly believed that trust would be a key factor in those first few hours… if the crew from the other Timeship suspected them of being hostile invaders from another realm, the chances of accomplishing anything positive would swiftly evaporate.

Even so, Ducane remained wary. He knew well the history of Starfleet's interaction with life forms from alternate universes. As a cadet he had been required to study just how many of those alternate realities were dangerous from an environmental point of view or simply contained a vast assortment of extremely unsavory characters. "_Trust me Captain, this particular _Relativity _crew will readily accept you as allies_," promised Data rather confidently. "_And if you plan to hold open meetings and grant them full access to your sensor data and personal logs, it does indeed become mandatory for them to know about my status and the existence of the Preserver network. I have long since verified that its length and breadth extends far into this particular universe as well_."

Other than that, Data refused to elaborate further until everyone gathered together. Ducane was not pleased, knowing that additional time was being wasted while Soran continued running loose with his newly constructed weapon of astonishing, unprecedented power. Resigning himself to the inevitable, the Captain contacted his counterpart aboard the mirror _Relativity_ with specifics about their upcoming meeting. He included a transfer of all relevant public logs and sensor telemetry as he did so. Fortune favored him on this occasion in return for his honesty – as things turned out the Data-Class android commanding the other Timeship proved to be as quick a study as Ducane's own former commander. In the end, the Captain Data from the mirror universe chose to bring only his First Officer, Commander Thomas Joseph Ducane, along with him. In the interim, he assigned his version of Jessica Ingram to remain aboard his _Relativity_ and continue studying and evaulating all of the new data.

_Wonderful_, Ducane thought silently to himself as he watched the other Data and his own doppelganger materialize on the transporter platform along the starboard edge of his bridge. _Now I've got two Datas and an alternate of myself to contend with. Allies? I sincerely hope so._

And so it came to pass. Slowly but surely, the main conference room began to fill, first with Captain Ducane himself followed by his two duplicate guests of honor. Lt. Commander Jessica Ingram entered next, seating herself next to the continued presence of Data's projection. Finally, Frank Roberts, Jean-Luc Picard, and James Kirk entered and took their seats around the central, oval table. All of them had a major stake in the matter at hand, and all of them wanted to know just what specifically had been taking place behind the scenes. Data's reputation for 'too much initiative' after his abrupt resolution to the Overseer incident at Deep Space Nine was well known to them. The duplicate android and his version of Ducane studied the flickering projection curiously, awed by the new revelations that had given them a whole new concept of subspace and its many folds.

Captain Ducane took a brief moment to make certain everyone was comfortable and that pots of hot coffee and ice water were available. Then he turned and faced the android's isomorphic projection. "What the devil have you been up to?" he asked the image of his former commander bluntly.

"_I have done my best to make the best of a very bad situation_," replied Data coolly. "_I assure you, any deception on my part was completely unintended and resides solidly in moral areas that remain – for the most part – gray ones_." His gaze shifted back and forth from one Ducane to the other as he curiously studied the expressions on both of their faces. He couldn't tell from a visual study alone just how angry 'his' version was. Both men appeared to be completely identical in every way, although they wore uniforms with differing rank insignia.

"What kind of bad situation?" asked Captain Data. He too appeared extremely inquisitive as he scrutinized his isomorphic counterpart. "We are here because the Temporal Integrity Commission received your transmissions at their headquarters and promptly labeled them as a potential temporal incursion. Once they verified that our ship – the _Relativity_ – was still on its current assignment in the 29th century, they knew instantly that something was drastically wrong. Since it was our communication codes and identification protocols that were used to contact them, they naturally chose us to investigate." He folded the fingers of his hands together and set them gently on the table top. "We traveled back through time, because – from our perspective – it appears to us that your presence here _is_ the problem."

"Captain Data, why did you take so long to respond to our hail?" interjected Ingram, adding her perspective to the discussion. She glanced uneasily toward her Captain at having spoken impulsively and a bit out of turn, but Ducane nodded reassuringly in response. She was his tactical expert on these matters, and he greatly valued her input. Her natural instincts for problem solving were usually dead on. "We may not have known it at the time, but we were in your universe for quite some time before I finally received a response to my transmissions. Even then your reception lasted only a few seconds."

"_They did not respond because they did not exist yet_," stated 'isomorphic Data'.

Captain Ducane appeared genuinely irritated by the answer. "All right," he snapped sharply. "Enough already with the non-stop riddles Data. _Explain_. Simply. Use terms we can all understand." He threw up both hands with mild frustration and shook his head, clearly upset with his old friend.

"_I must caution you, a lengthy explanation is required_," Data cautioned him.

Folding his arms more than a little defiantly, Captain Ducane smiled impatiently. "Again, excuse the pun, but we have _time_."

Nodding gently in response, the android projection picked out an empty chair and sat down. "_We were facing a major crisis completely unlike any other previously encountered_," he began. "_Tolian Soran, reborn during the Sentinel's experiments, betrayed the trust placed in him by the Preserver Council of the Elders and traveled into Starfleet's past with a not-so-secret agenda of destroying the Borg. If he succeeded, centuries of our history would have been irrevocably altered_."

"That part we already know," pointed out Ducane with significantly more tact. His usual, calm demeanor was rapidly returning, carefully controlled by years of training and self discipline. "Please continue."

"Indeed," added Captain Data. "I find myself intrigued as to how _your_ problems involve _our_ universe."

"_After receiving your initial request for assistance, I immediately became actively involved in coming up with a solution long before I first contacted you_," 'isomorphic Data' told Captain Ducane. "_I consulted with at least 10 million other life forms and reviewed more than 1.94 trillion possible contingencies prior to settling on the best course of action_."

"You are _so_ like my own Captain," decided Commander Ducane with a dry smile. "_Lots_ of statistics."

Captain Ducane smirked in response to his counterpart's observation. "Which solution did you finally choose?" he asked curiously.

"_The possibility of stopping Soran before he could act decisively was virtually impossible, especially after he created his modified version of the Xindi super weapon. Therefore, my next choice was to find a way to redirect his negative actions against a true enemy… someone who had committed crimes so atrocious and so repeatedly that a probable death sentence was the only option. As I reviewed the list of hostile species throughout all of history, I kept coming up with the same answer… Borg_."

Ingram appeared to agree. "So you had to figure out a way to hurt them without altering our history."

The mirror Commander Ducane looked visibly flustered. "So you decided that you would alter _ours?_" he asked, clearly astonished at the prospect. "What gives any of you the right to do that?"

"_From our perspective, history as you remember it did not yet exist until several hours ago_," countered 'isomorphic Data'. "_Please hear me out completely before passing final judgment_." He paused for a few seconds to let them gather their thoughts and then resumed his explanation. "_During our recent crisis with the Overseer, I made the decision to transfer myself into subspace in order to improve upon my unique nature as a sentient, artificial life form. By doing so, I also agreed to accept oversight assignments and regulation duties. During the transition, I also confiscated more than seven trillion gateways that had been relentlessly created over the centuries by the Overseer's slave labor teams. All of these were artificial gateways with technology created specifically to breach the subspace barriers separating parallel universes. To summarize, I began searching them meticulously, looking for a universe where the Borg won… where an established timeline of history successfully indicated that they had conquered the vast majority of species living within all four quadrants of the Milky Way_."

"Seven trillion?" Ingram's right eyebrow soared with surprise. "With all of those possibilities to choose from, it shouldn't have been hard to find what you were looking for."

"_You would be surprised_." It was clear to Captain Ducane that at least some of Data's positronic attention remained focused elsewhere; obviously he was attending to his assigned duties within subspace. The fact that he was capable of simultaneously projecting an image of his former self on board the starship and holding a comprehensive briefing was truly an astonishing feat. "_My ancestor – the original Data from the_ Enterprise-D –_had a number of experiences with alternate universes and their life forms. I drew heavily on those experiences throughout my search. Unfortunately, none of the Overseer's gateways ended up leading me toward anything helpful._"

Clearing his throat with a distinct "ahem", Jean-Luc Picard poured himself a glass of ice water. "It doesn't sound as though you were left with a whole lot of alternatives."

The android paused briefly to acknowledge the comment. "_Exactly, Jean-Luc. Essentially I had to 'go back to the drawing board', as many humans would say. Fortunately, my association with the subspace network grants me access to all of its virtually unlimited resources. The Preservers possess technology that will allow a researcher to peer into any alternate universe he or she might wish to. Unfortunately, until I transported the Overseer's working gateway system into this realm, actually transferring passengers and/or ships from one alternate universe to another has proven to be extremely uninteresting to most of my colleagues. They had plenty to focus on in the vast expanse that is our own universe_."

"I was in one of those mirror realities once," noted Kirk with a frown. "It was _not_ at all pleasant, and my crew and I barely made it back safely."

"_Yes. Benjamin Sisko and his crew regularly encountered representatives from that parallel reality during his tenure aboard Deep Space Nine. That is one of the reasons I recruited both him and Captain Janeway to implement the specifics of my plan. Sisko is an expert on stabilizing wormholes, and Janeway is an experienced scientist very familiar with quantum slipstream technology and trans-warp_."

Ducane steepled the fingers of both hands together and pressed them firmly against his nose. "What have you done, Data?" he asked. "Please tell me… my imagination is running wild with possibilities."

"_Essentially, I searched relentlessly until I finally located a parallel universe where the Borg conquered most of the Milky Way. In this universe the event happened at some point between the 23__rd__ and 24__th__ centuries, resulting in the complete destruction of both Starfleet and the Federation before they could truly expand and prosper as they normally do_." He studied Ducane's reaction thoughtfully for a moment. "_Finding this realm was not an easy task. The Preserver technology in this particular area is imperfect and highly unreliable. My search was similar to someone standing on one side of a residential neighborhood's street in the black of night with a flashlight. I could search for a specific house on the other side by 'shining' my light through the darkness and focus it upon any alternate reality that I chose to, but actually moving physical objects back and forth between them was an extremely limited, risky process. Nevertheless I persisted_."

Captain Data was intrigued by the concept. "Why would that be so difficult?" he wondered. "Universe transit is easily accomplished with modern technology."

"It's difficult because you need a pentatonic scale from both universes in order to build a permanent, stable conduit," stated James Kirk. "It's very easy to move between alternate realities _if_ you don't care which one you end up in. Targeting a _specific_ location is much more difficult." Commander Ducane and Captain Data looked at him with mild surprise, and Kirk simply smiled in response. "It's a Preserver thing," he pointed out. "I've been studying their sciences for some time now. A pentatonic scale…"

"…_is a five dimensional coordinate set_," continued 'isomorphic Data'. "_Most life forms are unaware of the existence of alternate realities – to them it is usually theory. They generally regard the concept of time and space as a reality of four dimensions. The standard X, Y and Z coordinates – used to specify height, width and depth – place you at a specific location, with the fourth dimension determining the applicable timeframe. The FIFTH dimensional coordinate completes the five-point scale and references a specific alternate reality. I naturally have the entire scale for our home universe, but needed an equivalent coordinate set in order to access this universe – the targeted one that my 'flashlight' beam had settled upon_."

Lt. Commander Ingram shook her head with wonder. "_That's_ what you meant earlier… that's _why_ the mirror 29th century _Relativity_ didn't respond to my hails when we first crossed over," she gasped, suddenly putting together all the pieces of the puzzle. "The Borg eventually took over everything here, and we unknowingly entered a universe where they held full military control over all four quadrants…"

"…until Soran crossed over and dealt them a critical blow, creating an entirely _new_ and _alternate_ timeline more similar to our own," finished Captain Ducane. He had entered the meeting with a slight headache, and it was continuing to increase steadily as he listened to the android's explanation. "What in blazes were you thinking?" he asked, clearly awestruck. "For crying out loud, Data… you may have solved _our_ problems by doing this, but you created entirely new ones here by allowing Soran to alter all of history in _this_ universe! You _meddled_ in the affairs… of… of people…"

"…_of people who would have otherwise been dead or assimilated as drones_," pointed out 'isomorphic Data' tactfully. "_The changes so far have created a mirror of our own universe, but are limited to this galaxy alone. No where else have we 'meddled', to use your term. However, this crisis is far from over, because all I could do was stall for time and make sure Soran's intervention accomplished something positive. We still have to capture our renegade Doctor and confiscate his stolen technology_."

"In essence, you have handed off your problem to us," decided Captain Data. "That is far from a perfect solution, to say the least."

"_If I had not chosen your universe, none of you would currently exist with the life, liberty and capacity to challenge my decision_," argued 'isomorphic Data'. "_As in our universe, the Borg threat has now been greatly reduced and indefinitely limited to the Delta Quadrant. If the rest of you can finish this fight and stop Soran, then this galaxy and its newly created timeline will have a genuine chance to prosper just as our own has_."

Ingram's mind was buzzing with activity. It showed in her expression, and a thousand questions sprang to mind. "How did you end up getting what you needed?" she asked, unable to contain her growing curiosity. "If you could only 'shine a flashlight', as you indicated earlier, in the direction of this universe and peek into it, how did you manage to obtain the five-point scale you needed?"

"I was wondering about that myself," noted Captain Ducane slowly. "Does this have anything to do with your earlier reference to Benjamin Sisko and Kathryn Janeway?"

"_Yes_," acknowledged Data with a thin, emotionless smile. "_Since the 22__nd__ century of this Alpha Quadrant was evolving normally, I used a transporter beam to place them on the NX-01. I chose a point in time where Captain Jonathan Archer and his crew would be able to access the nearest Iconian gateway. The coordinates I needed are stored in each of those systems for obvious reasons – the Iconians also liked to occasionally travel between universes. I don't know for certain, but have discovered hints that universal transit was some sort of a vacation for them. It therefore seemed logical to pursue existing technology that already contained the coordinates I needed_." He decided to leave out the rest of it… namely the part about sending a 22nd century Starfleet crew forward through time, and then on to the Tholian home world during a 23rd century crisis. Captain Ducane was already noticeably agitated, and the android decided not to aggravate him further. It would serve no useful purpose.

"You could have _asked_ us before you moved the _Relativity_ over here," Ducane pointed out tersely. "And disabling our temporal core like that… it was very dangerous."

"_I had no choice, having only recently acquired the necessary pentatonic scale_," admitted Data. "_I have been moving as quickly as possible without hurting anyone. My position within subspace allows me to easily view alternate timelines. You confronted Soran again after he specifically ordered you not to. He was planning to kill you rather than negotiate… to test his new weapon on you. Not even a Timeship can repel that kind of firepower_."

"Where are Sisko and Janeway currently?" Ingram decided to ask her questions and continue to learn.

"_For now, they remain with this universe's NX-01 crew. All I would tell you is that there are still ways they can be of help there_," replied 'isomorphic Data' discreetly. "_Needless to say, both of them risked their lives and entire future prosperity when they accepted the mission – at the time I decided to send them the transport process was _ONE _way only. If they had failed to assist Captain Archer and his crew in obtaining the coordinate set, I had no way to target them and bring them back. Both normal space and subspace are extremely fluid and constantly in motion._"

"Then your analogy of a darkened neighborhood is not an entirely accurate one," countered Ingram. "It sounds more like attempting to shine this theoretical light that you spoke of on a specific current in a massive, three-dimensional cosmic river of some sort where the 'water' is constantly flowing in all directions." Her lips pursed grimly. "That doesn't sound like an easy task, especially when you need to transport _people_. It would be easy for other realms to obstruct your view… certainly over time."

"_Your description is accurate_," Data replied affirmatively. There was silence in the room for a moment while everyone took a moment to evaluate his information, prompting the android to fill the awkward silence with an anecdote. "_This entire matter is kind of ironic, in a way,_" he told them. "_I confiscated more than 7 trillion of the Overseer's universal transit gateways, each of which contains two unique pentatonic scales. You see, in order to move life forms and objects back and forth between realms, he also needed to possess both a source and destination set of numbers. It didn't take me long to discover, based primarily on trial and error, that NONE of those gateways were suitable for my purposes. None of them led to a suitable alternate reality. I therefore had no choice but to develop an alternate plan in order to bring us to the point in this crisis that we now find ourselves at_."

Captain Ducane took a sip of hot coffee. "So now you're simply going to turn everything over to us, and we're supposed to stop Soran?" He set down the steaming cup and sighed. "It pains me, old friend, that you only take the time to talk to me these days when you need something."

"_That is not entirely true Captain. If you will remember, it was you and Frank Roberts who specifically _asked_ for my assistance on this matter_," replied Data. "_I did my best to accommodate Starfleet's needs and yet remain faithful to the security restrictions as defined in the subspace network's new protocols. I also have significant ongoing obligations there and cannot simply abandon them at my personal whim_."

"I know," Ducane admitted candidly. "It you ask me, this entire affair has essentially disintegrated into a massive _Kobayashi Maru_ scenario run amok." He glanced at his counterpart – the Commander sitting across the table from him… a near perfect duplicate aside from slightly different life experiences. "What do _you_ think about all of this Commander?" he asked inquisitively.

"I like the fact that I'm obviously in line for my own Captaincy one day," the other Ducane joked before his expression sombered. "Regrettably, I think this entire affair is going to be an extremely difficult one to explain to the Temporal Integrity Commission."

Captain Data nodded in full agreement. "Indeed," he agreed immediately. "We were asked to investigate a possible temporal incursion in progress here in the 22nd century. Not only have we discovered one, but if we choose to somehow attempt to prevent it we will delete not only ourselves from history, but the Temporal Integrity Commission and all of the Federation as well."

"I'd like to be a fly on the wall when they read _that_ report," chuckled Commander Ducane.

"The existence of this massive, alien subspace Preserver network greatly intrigues me," continued the android Timeship Captain. "Why, may I ask, did you choose to tell us about it? Shouldn't it be our task in this universe to stumble across it as unexpectedly as you did?" Although his expression remained deadpan, he seemed genuinely puzzled. "Creating an alternate timeline was only the first step in your plan, with obvious consequences. You have also greatly affected our history – past, present and future."

Nodding with all respect due to Captain Ducane, Frank Roberts decided to respond directly to the question. "There were actually _three_ reasons as to why we shared our information with you," he told them. "The first was a direct request that I received from Captain Ducane – he ordered us to provide full disclosure to you. The second reason is because representatives like me, who serve directly on the Preserver Council of the Elders, have been looking for ways to coordinate our efforts with others like us in alternate universes for quite some time. Data's confiscation of the Overseer's gateway system has provided us with an opportunity previously unavailable to us. Universe transit has always been possible, but never really seriously addressed until the issue was so unexpectedly thrust upon us."

"So far, this Overseer you speak about has made no appearances in our galaxy," noted Captain Data. "If that problem has been successfully contained and he is indeed obeying diplomatic instructions as your reports indicate, then it is quite likely we will never encounter him." His gaze shifted directly to Roberts. "You stated that there were three reasons we were told about the network," he reminded his fellow android. "What, may I ask, is the third?"

Roberts glanced uneasily toward 'isomorphic Data' – even for an android his demeanor was obvious. He was obviously hesitant to fully continue until he received a gentle nod of approval from his mentor. "Up until approximately a century or two from now, your history almost precisely matches ours in most cases," he replied. "Then it veers astonishingly in a complete different direction as the Borg expand rapidly outward from the Delta Quadrant and conquer nearly every sentient, humanoid civilization. During my scans of the debris field created in the aftermath of Soran's earlier attack, I believe I have inadvertently discovered _why_ your history changes so drastically."

Commander Ducane studied Roberts' emotionless expression, clearly intrigued. "Why?"

"Your side of the Preserver network is currently in use by someone located in the Delta Quadrant – and has been for many centuries now. Whoever is accessing it has used its resources to eavesdrop on and probably even manipulate the Borg." The news caused another stunned, awkward silence to reign temporarily in the small room. "The reason your timeline didn't previously exist is because someone has deliberately intervened in your affairs and misused the Preserver technology at their disposal in order to assist the Borg without their knowledge." He gestured toward Picard and Kirk. "The three of us were about to appropriate a shuttle and launch a full investigation, but the appearance of your Timeship postponed the mission. Obviously, we wanted to remain long enough to participate in this discussion."

"Then we volunteer to assist you with that investigation," suggested Captain Data. "I am as curious as the rest of you as to who would be manipulating Borg in this timeframe. Almost certainly the Temporal Integrity Commission will want us to discover and expose the guilty party." He looked approvingly toward Roberts. "Why limit your resources to a small shuttle?" he asked the android. "You are welcome to board my Timeship and utilize all of its resources to aid you."

"That works for me," agreed Captain Ducane. "Your starship and its crew providing assistance to them will allow this version of the _Relativity_ to resume its search for Soran. We have to stop him before he strikes again, and this time I intend to do so." He glanced irritably at 'isomorphic Data'. "_If _we are allowed to, that is, without a temperamental parent constantly peeking over our shoulder."

"_I assure you Captain, no further information will be withheld by me. I plan to coordinate all future efforts with you well in advance of acting. This situation is an extremely volatile one_."

"We agree with the summary as stated in your ship's most recent log entry," said Commander Ducane. "We too think that Soran will choose to relentlessly pursue the Queen until he can personally destroy her. The man is motivated by revenge, and once he destroys both her and her ability to clone new versions of herself, the Collective as we know it will die completely."

"_All of you must be extremely careful throughout the remainder of this crisis, especially if your crews are to successfully work together_," cautioned 'isomorphic Data'. "_Additional actions here in the past could easily trigger additional changes in the 29__th__ century… changes that could alter the mirror_ Relativity_'s_ _mission parameters_."

"Agreed," nodded Roberts. "We will proceed cautiously."

"And I will issue an order to keep our temporal shielding in place at all times," Captain Data promised. "That should isolate us from any changes and insure that your people are returned safely to you once our mission concludes."

"It takes a lot to significantly affect things in our century," pointed out Commander Ducane with a chuckle. "Usually, we know we've screwed up when the folks from the 31st century begin to show up. They try to remain observers whenever possible, but will most certainly intervene if we drop the ball." He appeared a bit uneasy when his comments failed to produce the expected laughter.

"Relax. Your humor is not lost on us Commander. It's simply difficult for us, viewing your arrival from our point of view," Ingram informed him in an attempt to explain matters further. "From our perspective, you've only existed for a few hours, even though your entire life and history must seem completely natural to you."

"_I will continue to monitor both missions from subspace and provide input and assistance when necessary_," promised 'isomorphic Data'. His expression seemed suddenly to reflect genuine disappointment. "_I sincerely apologize for my inability to resolve this matter entirely. Everyone I consulted within the Preserver network came to the same conclusion – that I should do my best to redirect Soran toward a target where his actions would be at least somewhat useful. Otherwise, we would have failed to stop him before he irreparably wrecked the history of our galaxy_."

"Everyone needs help sometimes Data," noted Captain Ducane. "That's why _you_ need to have faith too… especially in our ability to take care of ourselves. We may not agree with or completely like what you've done, but there's no denying that your actions have bought us additional time in which to plan. There's something to be said for looking before one leaps."

"Quotes can confuse as easily as they can motivate," countered Jean-Luc Picard. "Another popular axiom states that 'he who hesitates is lost'."

Captain Ducane chuckled at the comment. "Touche, sir."

Commander Ducane examined the contours of Jess Ingram's petite face and her long, blonde locks pulled tightly back and tied into a ponytail. "You're _so_ like our own version of Jessica," he told her. "It's truly astonishing actually… I've never met anyone from a parallel reality before."

"Unfortunately I have," Ingram responded. "The Overseer had allies in many universes, and he didn't hesitate to move them into our time/space in order to fulfill his murderous agenda. We were lucky that our version of Data was able to successfully nullify his presence."

"All right," stated Captain Ducane professionally. "If no one has anything else at this time, let's begin our respective assignments." He smiled at Captain Data. "I like the idea of you taking Roberts, Picard and Kirk with you," he admitted. "You will likely have additional questions as your mission unfolds, and they should be able to answer them. They certainly know everything that we do."

"On many subjects, we know significantly _more_," Kirk grinned playfully. Next to him, Picard struggled hard to maintain his best poker face.

Ducane declined to acknowledge the bait tossed out by Kirk, and shortly thereafter he ordered the meeting adjourned. As everyone rose to their feet around the large, wood-topped conference table, the Captain smiled grimly. "As our Klingon friends are so fond of saying, _Qapla'_!" he declared sternly.

* * *

_Enterprise_ NX-01, Inside Tholian Space, July 29, 2268

* * *

Jonathan Archer leaned back in the familiar contours of his command seat on the bridge of his starship, grateful to be back. He inhaled deeply while watching stars drift idly past the edges of the main viewscreen, and then smiled with amusement as he noticed soft, golden-brown fibers of hair sticking to the legs of his uniform. "Porthos on the bridge," he stated in wonder, glancing back at Malcolm Reed. "You never mentioned that you let him sit in my seat."

Chuckling with amusement, Malcolm's eyes shifted upward briefly from the tactical control console. "With respect, sir, your chair smells like you," the Lieutenant informed him. "That was an important part of making him feel more comfortable during your prolonged absence."

"I know, I'm just trying to visualize the whole thing," grinned Archer playfully. "Tell me, does Porthos bark orders as well as I do?" he asked curiously. "Did he give you a ruff time?"

Discreetly, Reed declined to answer. He was a trained tactician, after all, and immediately recognized questions from his commanding officer to which there was no correct response. "We've just deployed the last communications beacon," he reported brusquely. "There are now half a dozen of them out there, ready to begin transmitting as soon as we're ready. The explosives I placed in each will detonate ten minutes after the initial transmission, destroying all evidence of their presence."

The Captain swiveled in his seat, turning to face Hoshi Sato and Kathryn Janeway. The two of them had been working steadily for more than an hour, busying themselves with enhancements to the communications station. Ensign Sato was fully aware of Archer's sudden interest in her work, and she raised her gaze to meet his rather confidently. "We're ready here sir," she informed him. "With Captain Janeway's help, all necessary modifications are now functioning perfectly." A red light beeped suddenly for attention and her smile vanished, replaced instantly by a frustrated expression of renewed determination. "Wait a minute… for some odd reason the new encryption protocols are locked up. I'll try and resolve the matter."

From her position watching over Sato's shoulder, Janeway laughed reassuringly. "Relax Ensign," she suggested. "These new protocols were meant for systems with a far greater processing capacity than this console. You're doing fine. Just give everything an extra minute or two to initialize properly." Together they waited patiently and – as promised shortly thereafter – the red light dimmed and a green status light beside it flared to life. "See," the _Voyager_ Captain declared with a satisfied smirk. "We're ready."

Accepting the report he had been waiting for, Archer redirected his gaze toward Mayweather. "Travis," he said boldly. "Take us to maximum warp. Parallel friendly territory and move us back in the general direction of the Agni white dwarf." He waited patiently until the drifting stars on the viewscreen accelerated suddenly to the familiar, non-stop stream of warp-driven starshine as _Enterprise_ followed Mayweather's prodding and accelerated toward faster-than-light velocity. "Hoshi, activate the communications beacons," he continued. "All six of them."

More minutes ticked by while everyone busied themselves at their various, assigned duties. Janeway took the opportunity to join Archer next to his command seat. Together the two of them waited patiently while the starship raced back toward its 23rd century origin point. "Do you think we're making enough noise?" asked Archer. "Our distractions aren't going to help anyone on that other ship if they don't tempt at least some of the nearby Tholian vessels to investigate."

"Trust me Jonathan," said Janeway firmly. "We're in hostile territory, and those communications beacons your crew just laid so perfectly in a chain are now busy exchanging coded signals. To the Tholians – who are normally paranoid anyway – this will drive them crazy. Even if they still believe their home world is threatened as a result of our torpedo detonation, they'll want to make certain they have enough ships available to keep a close eye on their border. We're giving a limited number of vessels multiple targets to choose from."

"Then we're definitely in business," he concluded. "All we have to do is implement part two of our plan. And after that…"

"After that all we have to do is make certain we're back in the 22nd century before the Tholians can reach the border," Janeway finished for him. "I hope your faithful Subcommander has reverse coordinates ready, because we're going to need them as soon as Ensign Sato sends her final transmission. A speedy escape back to your century will be crucial."

"The calculations you refer to have been prepared," reported T'Pol professionally. "I have double-checked the computer's results for accuracy, just to be certain there is no error."

Janeway folded her arms in front of her and continued watching the viewscreen. "I absolutely love the plan you've come up with. It's simple, almost certain to work, and it effectively minimizes the chance of our continued presence here being detected by the Tholians."

"It helped me greatly after you leveled me with regarding details of your overall mission," responded Archer. "I sincerely appreciate that. Understanding the big picture made it easier to make an informed decision." He studied her profile intently, concern temporarily clouding his expression. "Trip told me that you and Sisko might not be able to get back – that you might be permanently stuck with us here in our universe. For the record, I hope that doesn't turn out to be true. It would trouble me greatly if you were unable to return home."

"Rest assured, the situation is now fully under control," countered Janeway. "Our way back was contingent upon us obtaining the five-dimensional coordinate set for Data. Now that he has it, he can zero in on this universe and its Milky Way at any time he wishes to and move us back through subspace. I expect that once this vessel successfully returns to your century, he'll likely seek us out."

As though he had been watching and listening the entire time, the familiar, isomorphic projection of Data suddenly materialized next to Janeway, causing her to jump slightly upon noticing his abrupt presence. "_If you would like, you can return home now_," he informed her.

"Data, you've got to _stop_ doing that," insisted Janeway.

"_I know_," he agreed. "_Lt. Commander Ingram does not approve of my sudden appearances either. However, my offer stands if you are ready to return home…_"

Considering his proposal carefully, Janeway shook her head negatively in response. "Benjamin Sisko and I are in this to the very end," she replied gently. "I don't have to tell you that gravitational forces can be extremely unpredictable, so we'd like to make certain we're here to provide assistance if this crew requires any on the way back. Feel free to pick us up after _Enterprise_ successfully completes a reverse course around Agni. I wouldn't normally speak for him, but am certain Captain Sisko would also want to stay until the end."

The lift doors at the rear of the bridge had snapped cleanly open early enough for its occupants to hear the commentary. Commander Trip Tucker and Benjamin Sisko emerged from within. "Absolutely I want to remain here," Sisko agreed. "We're not going anywhere until this starship is safely home."

"_Acknowledged_," said Data softly. "_I shall check in again when this vessel once again patrols the 22__nd__ century_." With his offer politely rejected, he vanished as swiftly as he had appeared.

Tucker smiled in Janeway's direction. "We finally got all that black stuff off the shuttle pod," he said, flashing his usual warm smile. "After we give it a good wash, all that's left to do is for us to explain to Starfleet how we permanently destroyed ten EVA suits."

"Accidents happen, especially way out here," Sisko suggested with a light chuckle.

Mayweather had ignored the light banter of the others thus far while carefully monitoring their position. The current data satisfied him, causing the young Ensign to suddenly speak up. "We're approaching the target coordinates Captain," he told them. "Currently our speed is a steady warp 4.9."

Again Archer focused his attention back on Sato. "Begin transmitting Hoshi," he ordered.

"Activating subspace transmitter," the Ensign responded coolly, watching lights on her console wink bright green. "It's working… we're sending an encrypted, tight beam signal directly toward the preset coordinates on our side of the border." Sixty seconds ticked by – a full minute – followed just as quickly by another. "Message has been received sir," she reported shortly thereafter. "We just received a confirmation hail in reply, along with a request for a complete update on our current status."

"Ignore it," said Archer commandingly. "Completely shut down the subspace transmitter."

"Aye, sir."

"Travis, alter our course and take us directly to Agni." As his starship began a gradual bank to starboard, he glanced thoughtfully in Janeway's direction.

"Well done Jonathan," she chuckled, noticing his interest. "And well executed, I might add. You've cleverly thought of a way to provide assistance to fellow Starfleet officers serving in your future without technically providing assistance to them. Even the time cops from my universe would be tempted to approve of this. Of course, they have to oppose all such actions."

"I'm sure they do."

"Coordinates to take us back to the Agni white dwarf are laid in and ready sir," reported Mayweather.

Archer smiled, burning with pride for his ship and crew. "Let's go home."

* * *

_**ADDITIONAL Author's Notes: **Nope, I'm not done talkin' yet. During the initial story ("Dark Archon") that inspired this trilogy, one of my favorite segments to write was the moment when Jean-Luc-Picard put on the Sentinel's RI-CAD headset. He had a series of visions that more or less showed him the history of his life and laid out possible future events. He did not realize it at the time, and (ironically), nor did this author. Only after I decided to continue with "Reign of Terror" and "Infinite Diversity" did I begin to expand and lay out more about why Picard was shown those visions. In short, he connected himself directly to the Preservers' subspace network, which - since it spans much of time and space - is somewhat prescient._

_One of the visions shown to Picard was a geometric pattern of lights that turned out to be a series of gateways leading to billions of alternate universes. Those gateways turn out to be the property of the Overseer, the primary villain who shows up in "Reign of Terror". "Dark Archon" was written quite a while ago, so here is a quick excerpt of a part of that vision... from the chapter titled "Glimpses Into Eternity"...

* * *

_

"He watched with fascination as his perspective began pulling rapidly back and away from the _Enterprise-E_. Almost instantly the Sovereign-Class starship dwindled to a tiny pinpoint of light, and the nearby yellow sun of the Sol system swiftly followed suit into the background of stars beyond. The image kept showing him a wider and wider perspective of the stars… first the Orion arm of the Milky Way became visible, followed quickly by its neighboring spiral arms and finally the entire Milky Way dominated his vision with all its billions of stars.

Jean-Luc watched the image in his mind reverse itself, as though he were looking in a mirror. Suddenly the Milky Way roared toward him again, but this time the Starfleet ships he saw laid waste to everything in their path. He watched a Constitution class starship very similar to James Kirk's – the _Defiant_ – maim and kill the populations of whole planets in the name of an Empress Sato. Before his eyes centuries passed in mere seconds, as an entire Empire rose from the ashes of years of war on Earth, peaked in its 23rd century, and then fell into ruin at the hands of an angry, bitter Klingon, Cardassian, and Bajoran alliance. Earth humans in its 24th century were followed and persecuted wherever they fled, and most of them ended up with no choice but to toil endlessly as slaves in order to keep alive the slim hope of surviving long enough to see one more day.

ONE possible home that is NOT yours, suggested the voice inside Picard's head firmly. ONE possible home among an INFINITE number of homes.

As if to prove this point, the image of the mirror universe receded as it had before, and as before the struggling, oppressed humans in the vision that he had been watching shrank instantly into a tiny pinprick of bright light. But this time there were no stars, instead he was looking at a vast, geometrically organized pattern of billions of other points of light that appeared neatly positioned around the central point leading to the evil Starfleet Empire. Picard sensed instinctively that he was looking at an intersection of doorways allowing access to countless other universes. Some of those alternate realities would no doubt be very similar to his own familiar universe… to his home. Others would be vastly different – practice peace or pursue violence; a choice that the populations in each universe were all inevitably forced to make.

If you had to CHOOSE a door, **_which would be your one true home and which would be so similar to your own that you would be unable to tell the difference?"

* * *

_**

_So there you go readers... some insight into how these three stories evolved! The geometric pattern of gateways became the big secret in "Reign of Terror", which I wrote to be at least a partial sequel to "Dark Archon". Those "points of light" turned out to be the hexagonal gateways constructed by the Overseer's slave labor force._

_I decided not to end it there. I drew upon Picard's vision for inspiration again! The statement in **BOLD** above became the big secret I kept after confirming that I would write "Infinite Diversity", the third story in the series._

_ "Star Trek" has shown us alternate universes before... (and with quite the cast of evil, colorful characters I might add)._

_But I wanted to do things a bit differently... my mission this time around was to place the reader in the middle of a story where events were unfolding simultaneously in the "home" Trek universe, and **also** in an alternate realm so similar that no one could tell the difference. And based on reviews received, I think that everything - for the most part - worked pretty well._

_Think back to all those earlier Chapters. There were minor clues dropped here and there: (a) On "Star Trek: Enterprise", Major J. Hayes originally died after being wounded by Xindi reptilians during the final battle to save Earth. Yet here he remained alive and able to make the journey to the Tholian home world. (b) And then there were the red-shirted security officers, HELPING Kirk fight the Mekhladors instead of immediately getting killed off by them before they could accomplish anything significant._

_Until the end of last chapter, no one (hopefully) suspected that the overall _U.S.S. Relativity_ storyline was the **only** part of the story taking place in the "home" universe. Everything else - the NX-01 crew's adventures along with the NCC-1701 crew's problems with the Tholians abducting civilians - has taken place in a MIRROR universe so close to our own that it is virtually indistinguishable from the "original"._

_ And now you know the big secret of this story._

_I hope it all fits and makes sense.  
_

_But we're not done yet. We're not even close!_


	17. The Way Of The Warrior

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**The Way Of The Warrior

* * *

**

_Enterprise_ NCC-1701, Tholian Space, Alpha Quadrant

* * *

James T. Kirk was mostly quiet during the ride back to _Enterprise_, sitting silently while deep in thought. He was mentally evaluating the final stages of his battle plan and attempting to come up with last minute improvements. He didn't know at first if it was a good sign or a bad one that he failed to think of any… but then the situation had now become a purely military one. Call out the brute squad and use force – hopefully catching a complacent enemy completely by surprise in the process. His crew was well trained and fully experienced in such matters, so much so that he hadn't even needed to further coordinate with Spock and the others aboard the starship aside from his brief meeting with Scotty.

_Everyone already knew full well what had to be done… it was now a simple matter of implementing the steps necessary to regain their freedom and absorb the inevitable bruises_.

He was still considering one or two minor modifications when Bernard Ridge pushed his way through the crowded interior of the _Columbus_, demanding to speak with Captain Kirk. Immediately, Chaplain Thomson appeared at his side, placing a reassuring hand on the cruise ship commander's shoulder. "This is _not_ the proper time for this Bernard," Thomson stated calmly but firmly. "We need to let these people do their jobs… interfering with their work will complicate matters."

"This is the _perfect_ time," insisted Ridge with obvious frustration. "These people have pronounced themselves our saviors, so I think it's only fair that they clue us in as to what they're going to do." He glanced anxiously out the shuttle's windows, surveying the dozens of Tholian ships still surrounding them and the glittering orange web strands connecting all of them together. He pointed a stern forefinger toward the intimidating view and gestured sharply for emphasis. "From my perspective, Captain Kirk, it looks as though your ship is completely helpless."

"It may sound a bit cliché, but I assure you appearances _can _be deceiving," responded Kirk politely. "The ship may be temporarily helpless, but I assure you that the crew still serving aboard her is not."

"I think you're about to get us all killed."

Rising from his seat, Kirk added his hand to the Chaplain's on Ridge's shoulder and subtly nudged the man back toward the rear of the shuttle. "The Tholians put you and your people through hell," he stated calmly, "and we all understand that. They presented you with awful choices and the worst possible living conditions. But you did your job and kept as many civilians as possible alive, stalling for time until Starfleet had a chance to mount a rescue. Now that we have, please let us do _our_ jobs."

"I don't know," Ridge replied grudgingly, still watching the awesome array of Tholian vessels through the cockpit windows. "I don't see how you can possibly win this battle. And if you lose it, so do we. _All_ of us lose. The Tholians have repeatedly made it crystal clear to us how they reward disobedience."

Thomson tugged lightly on Ridge's arm. "Bernard, really… let's leave the Captain alone…"

"No! I want to hear Kirk explain himself."

Observing Ridge's elevated anxiety level, Kirk chose his words carefully, determined not to provoke the man. "Some situations in life are not fair ones. Do you feel that you and the other prisoners would be better off staying behind, continuing to take turns going through the doors to the dome on that Tholian base? What were your chances for getting out of there before we showed up?"

Not surprisingly, Ridge found himself suddenly at a loss for words.

"You have reached the limits of what you can do as Captain of a civilian passenger liner," continued Kirk coolly, abruptly deciding to change the subject to better make his point. "You mentioned earlier that your brother is also serving in Starfleet aboard the _Potemkin_. Would you trust _him_ to make sound decisions in a crisis like this one… to do his duty and uphold his sworn oath?"

The commander of the _Aldebaran Queen_ nodded without hesitation. "Of course I would."

"Then please return to your seat and trust us to do _our_ job. This matter is our responsibility now… it's our job to get us all out of here." The Captain's hazel eyes flashed with intensity, and the charismatic aura that he had always relied upon to project a powerful, commanding image worked once again. Ridge nodded slowly, accepting his words and then followed instructions. Chaplain Thomson nodded gratefully in Kirk's direction as Ridge reluctantly relented and returned to his seat.

This time there were a total of fourteen people crowded into the small shuttle, so all movement forward and aft triggered a great deal of commotion. McCoy had chosen to kneel in the center of the main cabin while tending to the injured Marcus as the crewman reclined as best he could on the metal floor. Although the security officer was pale and weak from both injury and significant blood loss, he remained lucid enough to exchange jokes with the people around him. "Next time they need someone stabbed, it's Rowan's turn," he told McCoy with a laugh that sounded somewhere between a cough and a chuckle.

Most of the civilians found themselves truly astonished at how calm and controlled the Starfleet people were. The situation was truly dire, and yet they behaved normally and performed their duties with a professionalism that was not only admirable, but truly courageous given the circumstances. "That man almost _died_ down there," commented one weak, pallid survivor to a friend. "And _look_ at him… he's laughing and joking as though we're still on a pleasure cruise through friendly space."

For once, Chekov had very little to say. The usually talkative Ensign continued to pilot the shuttle expertly as it cruised higher into orbit on final approach toward the _Enterprise_'s slowly opening hangar doors. As Kirk reseated himself, Dr. McCoy rose suddenly and moved to stand almost protectively behind him. He opened his mouth to say something, but a look from the Captain silenced him. It had been Kirk's idea to bring along both Ridge and Thomson – in fact he had insisted on it to insure that the clearly agitated Bernard Ridge would not cause trouble on the surface in the midst of the coming crisis. Things were about to happen fast, and the only factor Kirk couldn't control was the speed with which the civilians still on the surface were rescued. Even with normal, redundant safety protocols disengaged, a starship's transporter system could only beam a limited number of people aboard, and the standard, traditional process that completed its cycle in less than thirty seconds could seem like an eternity during times like these.

Obviously, this was the toughest task ahead of them. Rescuing nearly a hundred prisoners – even when they waited patiently in carefully pre-arranged groups – would consume a great deal of time. Therefore the primary objective of Kirk's plan centered around creating as much chaos as possible among the Tholians and then sustaining it for as long as possible. Success would grant Scotty and his people the maximum amount of time needed to rescue the remaining prisoners. During a large part of the rescue, the _Enterprise_ would be taking enemy weapons fire. The Tholians would no doubt get their pound of flesh no matter what he did, but Kirk had decided to make certain that the strange, crystalline aliens learned a lesson today… one that they would not soon forget.

He was therefore willing to put up with Captain Ridge on the ride back to his ship, at which point the man could be isolated in McCoy's Sickbay, sedated if necessary, and essentially removed from an already complex equation as a potential risk factor. Chekov and the other two security officers had interacted readily with people from the groups they had helped to form during their time inside the Tholian outpost. Ridge was the only loose cannon, the only person who was not content to sit patiently and wait for a promised rescue. If they had left him behind, there was a distinct possibility that his strong emotional state would rile up the other prisoners right before the promised rescue… in which case everything they had worked to accomplish might fail.

The Captain of the _Aldebaran Queen_ was used to being in command of the people around him, used to receiving special treatment and grateful acknowledgements from his crew and passengers. Having unsuccessfully faced a situation he could not control or hope to resolve had not helped matters. In fact, it had severely wounded Ridge's pride to the point where he would try anything to regain it. That made him unpredictably dangerous in a situation where orders needed to be followed without question.

Through the windows, those standing near the front of the shuttlecraft could see the open hangar bay of _Enterprise_ and its sizeable interior continuing to grow steadily in size as the _Columbus_ continued on final approach. "I must say Captain Kirk, you Starfleet folks are not easily rattled," decided Chaplain Thomson. His gaze was shifting between the window view and crewman Marcus, who was now laughing and joking with the civilians. "It has truly been an amazing experience for me to watch your crew keep their cool through all of this. That planet and the treatment we received rotted our souls."

"My command crew and I are currently serving together on a five-year mission," replied Kirk informatively. "We've served together for quite some time, and have unfortunately seen our share of violence. In a crunch, we've been trained to control anxiety and focus on priorities." He leaned down slightly so he could get a better view through the windows, carefully studying the layout of the glittering, all encompassing Tholian web. "Priority one right now is getting that web down, along with its accompanying dampening field. Until we do that, the _Enterprise_ will continue to be the proverbial sitting duck. And we have to do it before they can collapse their shield on us and the other civilian ships."

"Sixty seconds to landing," reported Chekov crisply.

"Ridge is right," stated McCoy, shifting instinctively toward his usual position in the role of devil's advocate. "We're certainly going to take a few lumps on the way out of here. If Scotty can't restore full power to the warp drive, things could get very nasty. I've already got one customer, and am really not looking forward to a Sickbay full of them…"

"The more helpless we appear to be, the better for all of us once we begin," said Kirk in response. "This isn't a diplomatic matter of the kind we usually face. It's a classic military confrontation – our guns against theirs. The only wrinkle is that the Tholians haven't realized it yet. They think the fighting is over – that they've won. We've tricked them into capturing a Constitution-Class ship of the line... they've brought one of our most powerful starships right into the heart of their prisoner operation. The only way that strategy works for them is if they can continue to deny power to our systems. Shortly they're going to realize that they severely miscalculated on that particular matter." He smiled wistfully at the Doctor. "We're not Klingons, but there is still a fierce soldier lurking within all of us. We in the Federation may be primarily a peaceful people these days, but when lives are on the line we're fully capable of forcibly confronting tyranny. We release the beast within."

The Doctor chuckled with amusement at the final comment. "Even Spock?"

"Even Spock," Kirk declared firmly as the shuttle touched lightly down inside the massive hangar bay surrounding them. He glanced over toward the bushy-haired Ensign sitting next to him and smiled with fierce determination. "Mr. Chekov, it's time to get to work."

Unexpectedly, Hikaru Sulu emerged from beneath the _Columbus_, waving to everyone as he removed his helmet in the freshly pressurized hangar bay. "Everything went fine sir," he told Kirk confidently.

"That's good to hear," the Captain replied with a satisfied grin. "Now get out of that suit Lieutenant – we're going to need you back at the helm."

"Aye sir," nodded Sulu, handing his helmet to one of several bay workers who moved swiftly to assist.

The main door leading into the outer corridor opened, allowing Spock to enter. The Vulcan strode smoothly toward Kirk and handed him a padd containing a detailed list of options, prioritized from most important to least. "Mr. Scott believes we are ready," he said calmly. "Unless you have any additional changes, this is our recommended plan of attack."

Studying the list carefully, the Captain noted the slightly changed list of actions with interest. "This is going to be close," he predicted. "There's no guarantee that the transporter won't malfunction if the ship suffers severe damage. We should consider limiting return fire until we've rescued everyone, but if we do so it virtually guarantees that we'll take critical hits in unshielded areas."

"That's why we've worked toward giving the Tholians other matters to concern themselves with," responded Spock flatly. "If we can present a significant threat to their own lives and resources, they will be more likely to tend to themselves first."

Still, Kirk shook his head grimly. The sheer number of things that could go wrong was truly dizzying. "If we lose warp drive, we're dead."

"Mr. Scott assures me that engine reliability is not a problem so long as our shields remain operational. I have conducted a detailed analysis of the Tholian plasma charges and concur with that assessment. Together they can hurt us with their web, but the _Enterprise_ completely outclasses them individually."

The Captain silently reviewed the matter for another few minutes before coming to a final decision. In the interim, he watched the civilians they had rescued emerge from the shuttle, some of whom were actually smiling and conversing eagerly with each other. It was obvious that simply getting them away from the Tholian compound had lifted their spirits considerably "All right then," decided Kirk conclusively with a confident nod. "Consider the battle plan approved."

Sulu finished removing his EVA suit and handed the last of its various sections to the hangar workers. He watched McCoy and a team of medics hauling the injured Marcus out of the shuttle on a stretcher, noting that they were already working to treat the crewman's injury. "I see you ran into some trouble down there," he noticed, then glanced toward the vacated shuttle. "Where's Rowan?" he inquired curiously. "Weren't there five of you on the way down?"

"Rowan is fine," stated Chekov briskly. "There are still ninety-four civilians in the Tholian facility, many of whom were scared that we would not come back for them. Rowan stayed behind with two rifles in order to maintain a security presence and reassure everyone that we were not abandoning them."

"So a total of ninety-five people are still down there." Sulu accessed his memories on transporter capability during battle situations. "Even with the normal security protocols disengaged, that's still at least eight separate transports – assuming we take at least a dozen per trip. We're going to need to occupy the Tholian military for at least four and a half minutes, and that's if nothing major goes wrong."

"We _are_ taking twelve people per trip," acknowledged Kirk, having overheard their conversation. "Mr. Sulu, Mr. Chekov, walk with us. We've got work to do." Together, the four of them moved out into the corridor and headed toward the nearest turbolift.

* * *

_Enterprise_ NCC-1701, Ten minutes prior to cold engine restart

* * *

Uhura rose from her unusual spot at the helm and hugged both Chekov and Sulu as they emerged from the turbo-lift. "I'm so glad you two are back," she told them, smiling with obvious relief.

"You missed us?" Sulu feigned mild surprise. "It looks like they were letting you do the really _important_ job for once." He trotted over to the helm console and seated himself in the chair she had just vacated. Similarly, Spock returned to his usual position at the science station and began studying the Tholian fleet to insure that it hadn't changed significantly since his last analysis.

"We are all okay," Chekov reassured her. "Dr. McCoy informed us that even crewman Marcus is going to be all right, and he was the only one of us seriously injured." A thought suddenly occurred to the young, Russian Ensign. "Nyota," he began, trying to phrase his next words carefully. "You know that… that scarf I bought you for your last birthday?"

"The gold one?"

"Yes. That's the one. I think that you should throw it away."

The lovely, dark-skinned communications officer glanced at him with sudden, sincere surprise. "Why would you say that?" she gasped at his suggestion. "That scarf is lovely Pavel… it's prized Tholian silk. It's the _softest_ thing I own, by far. There's no way in the universe I'd ever consider getting rid of it."

Chekov studied her with an expression bordering on disgust. "Then at least scan it for residual traces of humanoid DNA," he suggested. "You wouldn't at all like what we discovered down on the surface."

"Yes. And that discovery is going to throw the entire Tholian civilian economy into chaos, at least in the short term," Kirk acknowledged. "_If_ they agree to some serious changes in the way they treat other races, they may even get their market share back… eventually." He pointed two fingers at the pair and then waved them in the direction of their empty seats. "Now if you don't mind, we're about to go to war," he reminded them. "I would very much like my best people at their stations when power is restored."

"Aye sir," the two of them nodded, and their informal discussion abruptly ended.

"While you were gone, something has quite obviously been happening elsewhere in Tholian space," said Spock informatively. "More than a dozen enemy ships have left the area in the past hour. Although the number of vessels participating in the web chain has remained constant at thirty-nine for several hours, most of the additional support vessels have abandoned their previous positions and moved back in the general direction of their home world."

"The most likely probability is that the commanders of the _Hood_ and the _Potemkin_ got tired of waiting for us and decided to mount a search," mused Kirk thoughtfully. "After all, we were supposed to keep them apprised of our current location at all times, but the Tholian dampening field technology put an end to that idea in one hell of a hurry. We've missed two or three deadlines to check in. Captain Dougherty tends to get a little bit twitchy in situations like this."

"I've been monitoring Tholian military frequencies," Uhura added. "Their encryption protocols are excellent, but I have managed to decipher fragments from some of their transmissions. It appears as though something major has happened on their home world."

"Then our friends on the other two starships probably aren't involved," decided Kirk. "Starfleet wouldn't authorize any action without conclusive proof. And that proof, for the moment, is stuck here with us."

"Regardless of what has occurred, the event bodes well for us," continued Spock. "If we can manipulate a majority of the remaining ships into damaging each other, our odds of successfully disabling the smaller fleet of support vessels increases significantly."

"Things are looking better already," decided Chekov dryly. "Is it sixty to one or are we down to fifty?"

"Actually, Mr. Chekov, the total number of enemy ships in the immediate vicinity has dropped to forty-seven," pointed out Spock. "As you know, the first wave of SWT-7 projectiles will be aimed at key ships in the web network both forward and aft…"

"Sweet potatoes," said Kirk, causing Spock to raise an eyebrow of surprise. Obviously, the Vulcan Science Officer was not used to being interrupted. The Captain smiled at him with his usual enthusiasm and amusement. "In the middle of a crisis, it's going to take a hell of a lot longer to say 'SWT-7 projectiles'," he pointed out. "Scotty told me his people are calling them 'sweet potatoes,' so I suggest you do the same. I'm sure you'll agree, it just seems to roll off the tongue a lot more easily."

"Indeed." Spock seated himself stiffly in the empty chair next to the sensor controls. "However, if your objective is indeed to abandon exact, scientific acronyms in exchange for crude, easy-to-remember monikers, perhaps the term 'hot potato' would prove to be most accurate. This would be especially true for the more explosive variety we plan to fire at the Tholians during the second salvo."

"Noooooo," chuckled an obviously amused Kirk. He appeared to be genuinely enjoying Spock's visible discomfort with the current topic of discussion. "Once someone chooses a nickname and others have accepted it, you can't go back."

Sulu and Chekov exchanged bemused glances at the awkward silence that followed. "Why?" asked Spock finally, after studying all of their expressions curiously. "Why can't we 'go back?'"

"Because you just don't, that's all. For one thing, it wouldn't be polite to the folks in engineering," noted Kirk with sincerity. He focused his gaze on navigation. "Mr. Chekov, create a reserve auxiliary energy supply and use it to maintain ship wide life support. Divert everything that's left in the ship's batteries to the torpedo launchers. Order the gun crews to load the first wave of sweet potatoes and stand by to fire on my order."

"Aye, Keptin." His thick Russian accent was much stronger than usual. Even if he appeared outwardly normal, it was a sure indicator of elevated stress levels in the young Ensign.

"And remember… our objective is to _disable_ as many Tholian vessels as possible, giving us the time we need to rescue our people and escape. We kill only when necessary." Kirk slammed his fist on the Comm-activation switch located along the right armrest of his seat. "Scotty," he said energetically. "I take it everything is ready to roll down in Engineering."

"_Aye. We're ready when y' are, Captain_," the Chief Engineer replied. "_Once we initiate the cold restart, we should have main power back on-line within five minutes, give or take ten seconds. And if the dampening field is still active at that point, we'll lose everything we've done with the inter-mix. I'll have to shut her down and batteries will fail less than half an hour later_."

"So you're telling me that we've got one shot at this… and _one_ only."

"_That I am Captain. But I expect y' already suspected that_." He paused for a moment, which only served to emphasize the seriousness of the situation. "_If our plan fails, we'll have time and power to evacuate to the facility on the surface… but just barely_."

Others would have mulled the matter over for awhile longer, but Kirk had long since reached the decision to proceed. If the success or failure of a situation came down to the performance of his people, then he possessed full confidence in their ability to execute. "Given the delicate nature of the transporter system, I'd rather have you there Mr. Scott," he stated honestly. "That's one of the first systems that will suffer from any damage inflicted on this vessel."

"_Mr. Kyle will handle everything sir. I personally prepped him on the modifications needed, and he's planned for possible malfunctions. Security is ready and waiting to back him up_."

"Acknowledged. Stand by Scotty, we're about to implement Plan 'A'. And unfortunately, on this particular occasion, we don't have the luxury of a Plan 'B'."

"_Not to worry sir. The lads and lassies and I will not let y' down_."

"Thanks. That's nice to know." Kirk flipped a second switch next to the first, activating the ship's all-call system. "_Attention. This is the Captain speaking_," he announced, his electronically amplified voice echoing throughout the _Enterprise_'s tall decks and lengthy corridors. "_We're about to make our break for freedom_," he began, speaking calmly, confidently and reassuringly. "_Things are going to be touchy for awhile, because we need to beam almost a hundred people on board prior to our departure. We're going to catch the Tholians by surprise once power is successfully restored, but unfortunately most of that advantage will be lost in the minutes thereafter. Some very scared and hungry people will be coming off of our transporter pad a dozen at a time, so please assist them in finding their way as quickly as possible to Sickbay or another protected area of the ship. Make certain everyone has something to hang on to because there will be turbulence. Remain at your assigned stations, keep our systems fully functional, and I promise you_ Enterprise _will get us home. That is all_."

"All stations report ready sir," stated Uhura professionally.

There was a brief pause as Kirk took a deep breath and a last look at the luminescent orange Tholian web crisscrossing the main viewscreen. "Bring all decks to red alert," he said calmly. "Battle stations."

Around them, alarm lights instantly began flashing bright red, accompanied by the familiar intermittent whine of the alert klaxon. The blaring sound of the alarm faded quickly but the lights remained flashing, clearly signaling to everyone on the ship that the _Enterprise_ was now at battle stations.

"Scotty, initiate cold engine restart," Kirk stated firmly. "Bring the main warp core back on-line."

* * *

_Enterprise_ NCC-1701, Three minutes prior to cold engine restart

* * *

With normal sensor activity off-line, it understandably took Spock a bit longer to complete his latest analysis. "Things remain more or less unchanged," he admitted finally, walking over to stand at his traditional position beside Kirk. "The Tholians have directed some additional sensor activity our way, but that was expected once they detected increased activity on our engineering decks."

"Everyone they capture no doubt tries something like this sooner or later," guessed Kirk. "After it doesn't work, they give up or their life support fails. Either way they have no choice but to take shuttles and escape pods to the surface."

"Indeed. If anything, our prolonged _delay_ in attempting to restore power should have made the Tholians suspicious," the Vulcan decided. "However, given the Federation's reputation for dealing with civilian matters, it plays right into our character that we checked on the prisoners first."

No one said anything over the next few minutes after that simple, brief exchange. From his position in the command seat, Kirk could see Chekov's upper body expanding and contracting as the Ensign took several prolonged deep breaths. "Is everything okay Pavel?" asked Kirk with a wry smile. "You're not usually so fidgety, Ensign."

"The waiting is the hardest part," Chekov stated with unexpected humor in his tone of voice. "At least, that's how it's worded in an older, popular Russian song." His expression remained deadpan as Sulu turned toward him with a look of complete and utter disbelief. Chekov was well known for his ability to pirate away quotes and clichés from the English language and then brazenly add them into previously undiscovered Russian equivalents. The Ensign cast a defiant gaze back at the Lieutenant before both of them alertly returned their attention to the consoles in front of them and continued to wait patiently.

The transceiver in Spock's ear allowed him to listen in on Uhura's Comm-chatter. "Coming up on one minute and thirty seconds to restart," he reported crisply. "_Mark_."

"Chekov, fire the first wave of sweet potatoes at the primary targets in the Tholian fleet," ordered Kirk sharply. "Empty both the forward and aft tubes."

"Torpedoes away sir," reported the young, bushy-haired Ensign with growing excitement.

The normal electronic pulsing sound of the torpedoes being ejected was absent this time. Instead there were only throbbing sounds that rumbled through the deck plating. The effect was instantaneous, however, as six of the smaller enemy targets in front of them and two more floating aft were struck suddenly by a fully set asphalt/concrete mixture weighing close to a metric ton. Two of the torpedo casings were sliced cleanly apart by web strands as they passed through the energy barrier, but that only added to the damage inflicted as their intended targets were hit multiple times. Only in rare emergencies such as this one was a starship crew allowed to 'double load' tubes in such a manner… two photons per tube created a significantly increased risk of disastrous backfire if the lead projectile failed to clear before the second emerged close behind it. Here there was no risk at all, since the casings contained no explosives.

Large, random sections of the webbing began to flicker unpredictably on the viewscreen. Sulu used the ship's external video pick-ups to zoom in on a one of the eight ships that Spock had selected as primary targets. Not only was the physical damage from the SWT-7 impact clearly visible, but they could also see energy strands relayed toward it from other ships slicing deep into its exterior hull. The vessel – and three others just like it – had begun a slow tumble backwards. The crew aboard each was able to activate maneuvering thrusters that slowed their spin and helped them regain some degree of stabilization. Unfortunately, by the time full control was regained each ship had traveled too far backwards to be of any more help. Their main computers removed them as part of the web chain and signaled the other vessels to compensate by adjusting the strands and reducing the size of the fleet by four ships.

Scanning their damaged colleagues now floating well away from the fleet perimeter, the defensive systems from the other vessels subsequently compensated and eliminated them as part of the shield. The various sections of webbing shimmered briefly and then refocused on new primary targets, each pre-selected by their main computer. Unfortunately for the Tholians, all of those ships had been identified by Spock as 'next in the chain' and also targeted in the initial assault. By now the pilots of those vessels had also managed to stabilize them, but – having received only deliberate, glancing blows from the rear, double-loaded torpedoes – each was still close enough to the perimeter to receive even more damage as web strands from dozens of other vessels simultaneously locked in on them and instead sliced each cruiser cleanly into dozens of glowing fragments.

_All of the destroyed vessels subsequently lost matter/anti-matter containment, and everything in the area shuddered in response to the multiple, massive shock waves from their engine core explosions_.

"_Hurry_," Kirk snapped urgently, watching sections of the web continuing to waver unsteadily as the defense computers on each of the enemy ships struggled to restore their previous harmony. "If they release those relay probes and collapse the remainder of the web around us, we'll almost certainly lose warp drive… possibly the entire ship. Warp drive, gentlemen, is our only way out of here."

"Thirty seconds to cold restart," announced Spock calmly.

"The second wave of torpedoes is loaded and ready," Chekov reported enthusiastically, watching the status lights on his console switch from amber to green.

"_Fire_," snapped Kirk with an intensity that could only be driven by a carefully controlled anxiety.

Again the dull thumps from the dumbed-down torpedo casings rumbled through the walls and floor. This time there was noticeably more time between shots, a deliberate change employed by Chekov so that he could direct each of the first two shots – one from the front of the ship and the other from aft – toward opposite sides of the web sphere. After a brief pause he used significantly more caution when firing the third and fourth shots from the forward tube. The eager Ensign directed both at one of the support vessels floating just below them, _inside_ the web perimeter. Torpedo number three slammed with crushing force into the top of the enemy ship's nose and then deflected upward toward the web's apex. An instant later, torpedo four struck farther behind along the dorsal hull as the Tholian vessel tumbled rapidly toward them. Like a giant tennis racket, the vessel's sudden forward rotation in reaction to the first hit strategically deflected the last torpedo downward, on course toward a negative Z-axis.

"Ensign, _that_ is the best shooting I have seen in a long time," noted Kirk with admiration. "Who needs evasive maneuvers when you can do things like that?"

"I've been waiting to take it to the Tholians ever since we entered orbit," replied Chekov grimly.

An instant later all four timed torpedoes exploded at equally distant positions in glowing clouds of rapidly expanding debris. All remaining nearby Tholian vessels endured a series of smaller, less destructive impacts that nonetheless jarred them free from their precise, carefully controlled positions within the overall web structure. Improperly aligned filaments from other ships immediately began slicing and burning into each of them. The overall web pattern became even more corrupted, and it only took seconds before large shimmering sections of the incorrectly targeted energy beams rapidly vanished, one after another. No doubt, dozens of rattled ship Captains were screaming furiously at their shield crews to completely deactivate the hopelessly distorted web shield.

In order to function properly, the Tholian web relied completely upon meticulous computer-controlled precision. Sulu switched the viewscreen briefly to views from aft, above and below. Everywhere they looked there were now only glittering stars, ships and the sharp curve of the nearby planetoid. They were astonishing views to be sure, since only sixty seconds before the entire area had been filled with glittering, crisscrossing lines of shimmering orange energy. The mighty starship _Enterprise_ continued to hold its position, completely unpowered and helpless, in the center of a fully protected military fleet. The sharp sound of metallic impacts against their exterior hull from pieces of the expanding debris field increased steadily with each passing second.

_But they had succeeded… the massive Tholian web shield had been completely dismantled._

"Five seconds to cold restart," reported Spock, maintaining his ongoing, infamous restraint. "Four, three, two, one…" He glanced expectantly toward the Captain as the timeline expired.

Kirk glanced down at the padd in his lap and the prioritized list it contained. He was keeping it very handy and risking no chance of error in so critical a situation. "Chekov, order the gun crews to begin loading live photons, even if the anti-matter doesn't appear to be active."

"Aye sir."

On the mostly dark consoles around them, some of the screens flickered briefly to life and then faltered. Less than ten seconds later, another larger, sustained surge of power from somewhere down below brought all of them fully back to life. With battery power nearly exhausted, most of the bridge crew breathed a collective sigh of relief as systems began to power back up and they recognized the familiar winking green, gold and red lights. The normal sound from the numerous background computers was clearly audible as they powered slowly back to life and began to fill the awkward silence. The majority of systems encircling a majority of the bridge came fully back on-line almost simultaneously, leaving a satisfied Chekov shaking his right fist in triumph.

"External hull illumination floodlights have activated, along with running lights. The Bussard collector system in both warp nacelles is also powering up." Spock reported.

Hesitant as to whether or not they could truly proceed without a final okay, Kirk looked expectantly in the direction of his First Officer. "What about that dampening field?"

The Vulcan had moved back to his assigned station during the countdown, glancing inquisitively down into the bright blue light of the main sensor array's primary data reader while examining the newly gathered telemetry listed there. "The entire web shield is down, along with more than eighty percent of the dampening field," he stated factually, turning to regard Kirk with no trace of emotion. "Mr. Scott and his infamous band of engineers inhabiting our lower decks have restored ninety percent of our systems to ready status. Those we labeled as non-critical can remain safely off-line for now."

As usual, it seemed as though Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott could read minds. "_We've done it Captain!_" his voice crackled suddenly – and extremely loudly – out of Uhura's Comm-link. "_She's successfully back up and running, by gosh and by golly… you may begin recovering civilians!_"

Nodding with a small ghost of a satisfied smirk, Kirk's eyes blazed with intensity. "Sulu, deploy all shields except ventral," he ordered firmly. "Keep the grid along the underside of the saucer off-line so that nothing interferes with Mr. Kyle's transporter activity. Make certain any ship that tries to approach us from below is a priority target."

"Acknowledged. Raising shields _now_…"

Once again the Captain of the _Enterprise_ punched the Comm-switch on the arm of his command seat. "Mr. Kyle, begin rescuing the prisoners from the surface. Let me know when the first group is aboard and then pause until you hear my specific order to proceed."

"_Aye sir. Initiating transport on Group One_."

Kirk deliberately left the channel open, since any transporter malfunction was something the command crew on the bridge would need to know about immediately. Admittedly they had no specific 'Plan B', but that was primarily because each and every senior officer was an experienced tactician, skilled at adapting to changing battle conditions on the fly. There was simply no other way to handle a critical, tactical situation such as this one except to lay out a realistic plan, aim for their primary objective and then fly by the seat of their pants. "Spock, where's the rest of that dampening field coming from?" he wondered out loud. "There shouldn't be enough undamaged ships left out there in order to sustain…"

"The remainder of the power field is coming from a generator located within the facility on the planetoid surface," Spock said, interrupting him with the new information. "Specifically, within a northern section of the outer ring inhabited by the Tholians."

"Are there civilians nearby?"

"Affirmative," the Vulcan noted. "Group number Six is to the south, within the center ring."

"_The first group of civilians has successfully beamed aboard_," reported Kyle from his position in the main transporter room. "_Standing by as ordered, Captain_."

The bridge abruptly bucked around them as though a huge hammer had pounded it from the starboard side. One of the security officers stationed at the rear of the bridge caught his colleague firmly by the arm just before he went head first over the hand railing in front of them. "As expected, the Tholian fleet is regrouping and has initiated efforts to counter attack," pointed out Spock. "At least a dozen ships with light damage are charging their plasma weapons and approaching us from all directions."

Sulu flipped the viewscreen image back to what lay in front of them, allowing Kirk to watch three of the small, wedge-shaped Tholian cruisers rocketing swiftly in their direction. "Let's give these busy little bees something else to think about," the Captain replied sharply. "Do we have phaser power yet?"

The helmsman nodded. "Seventy percent of full power has been restored, and engineering has signaled that they can supplement with auxiliary power if we need it."

"Good." Kirk's smile boiled with a growing confidence. "Seventy percent will do fine. For now, divert the auxiliary power to supplement the forward and starboard shield grids. Then lock phasers on the _Aldebaran Queen_ and blow it up." He turned to face the open Comm-channel. "Mr. Kyle, the _Enterprise_ is about to be hit by a severe wave of turbulence caused by the close proximity explosion from a Class-K warp core. As soon as all of the shaking and rumbling subsides, I want you to transport Group Six up next. Once they're aboard, resume transporting the remaining groups in numerical sequence."

"_Aye Captain. Consider it done_."

Sulu wasted no time, firing twin blue beams of searing phaser energy directly at Captain Ridge's nearby passenger liner. The hot beams of energy instantly pierced its unshielded hull and burned through the interior decks. Almost instantly a rapidly expanding flash of intense white light illuminated the viewscreen with a blaze of glory so blinding that the automatic intensity filter backed down several settings. The _Enterprise_ rocked violently in reaction to the massive explosion, tilting precariously to port as the leading edge of the shock wave from the _Aldebaran Queen_'s engine blast expanded outward through the entire star system. The smaller, less shielded Tholian vessels were caught completely unprepared for the second time in as many minutes and were thrown completely off of their planned attack runs and back into uncontrolled spins. Sitting calmly in the center seat and exercising great restraint, the Captain counted off twenty-five seconds silently before the Comm-channel lit up once again. "Report Mr. Kyle," he snapped briskly, hoping to hear good news.

"_Kyle here… Group Six is aboard Captain. Targeting scanners have locked onto Group Two and I'm initiating the next transport even as we speak_."

The good news obviously pleased Kirk. "Mr. Spock, about the rest of that dampening field…"

"Yes Captain," acknowledged the Vulcan. "Group Six was the only civilian presence in close proximity to the generator on the surface of the planet. Mr. Sulu may target it at his discretion."

Turning his head in the Lieutenant's general direction, Kirk simply nodded at Sulu's expectant face.

"Target acquired… firing now sir!" noted Sulu emphatically. The familiar whine of the emitters building up a full charge resounded through the bridge. "I sure missed that sound," he commented idly.

Additional phaser fire stabbed downward toward the rocky surface below, slicing easily through the unshielded, outer hull of the Tholian habitat ring. Just as quickly the searing blue beams burned through the ground-based field generator and rendered it completely inoperative. Spock shot a quick nod of approval toward Kirk to let him know that the entire area was finally free of electronic interference. Curious, Sulu zoomed in on the alien compound and provided everyone with a pretty decent view from above. It was very easy to see where the phasers had struck – a hot, reddish-blue flare of escaping Tholian atmosphere could be seen venting into the dark emptiness of the planetoid's thin, virtually non-existent atmosphere.

"_Kyle here… Group Two is aboard. I'm locking onto Group Three_."

"Sulu, restore forward visual."

The Lieutenant complied and they watched the helpless, battered vessels comprising the Tholian fleet tumble end over end. The vast majority of them had obviously lost main power along with most of their deflector capabilities. "We may not be nearly as small and spry, but we've got a much thicker hull along with reinforced shielding," he commented, glancing back toward Kirk. "I wonder… are Tholians susceptible to radiation poisoning?"

"I would venture that they're about to find out," decided the Captain. "I'll take my large, overpowered deep space exploration vessel over those pipsqueaks any day."

Uhura had said nothing, primarily because she was the busiest of them all. Her central communications board was fully lit, and her console screen filled with a prioritized list of electronic reports. Working with years of on-the-job experience at her disposal, she was alternating between reading and listening carefully to voice transmissions taking place all over the ship in a search for specific keywords. "Repair teams have found only light damage and half a dozen minor injuries," she informed them. The first group of civilians have been routed to Sickbay. Others, unless they're injured, will be assigned to empty crew quarters. Mr. Kyle's team also plans to place some of them in the mess hall."

"Report all damage to critical systems or injuries to personnel immediately Lieutenant."

"I will sir."

"_Group Three is on board_."

The bridge continued to rumble ominously every few seconds as stray weapons fire pounded heavily into its carefully aligned deflectors. Many of the enemy ships remained fully functional and recovered fast – they were currently struggling to direct repeated, powerful plasma charges in the direction of the massive Constitution-Class starship. "Sulu… Chekov… target the remaining, undamaged enemy vessels at your discretion and fire at will."

He had barely spoken the words before a series of photonic anti-matter explosions lit up the forward viewscreen with bright, repeated flashes of crimson fire. The distinctive drone of the phasers charging and then discharging filled the short void between torpedo volleys. Repeatedly, bright blue lances of energy speared outward from beneath the saucer, chasing away enemy vessels lurking nearby and protecting their vulnerable, unshielded bottom.

"Spock, transfer the access codes for Sulu's spyware devices to Uhura's board."

The Vulcan completed the work in seconds. "Done."

"Lieutenant Uhura, transmit the detonator sequences for all spyware."

"Aye, sir… transmitting now…"

"_Group Four is on board, Captain. I have a transporter lock on Group Five_."

Huge, bright red torpedo detonations continued to light up the forward viewscreen, sending shudders through the starship's reinforced superstructure. "Easy on the proximity fuses Mr. Chekov," said Kirk gently. "I haven't heard our fair lady's bones creak and groan this much in quite some time."

Spock's back was turned as he continued to study the sensor reader, carefully monitoring the battle field. "The most severely damaged ships from the enemy fleet are retreating," he pointed out brusquely. "Eleven others recently attempted to establish a smaller web field, but after suffering additional structural damage they appear to have now completely abandoned that effort."

Between torpedo launches, Chekov paused long enough to smile wryly. "They have discovered that their ability to organize and align has become extremely difficult," he noted with a light chuckle.

"The spyware devices that Mr. Sulu took so much time placing along the exterior hull of the Tholian facility have now exploded," noted Spock. "The compound is venting its super-heated atmosphere from multiple locations along the outer ring."

"We're about to learn a great deal about the Tholians as a people," predicted Kirk. "There are dozens of ships in distress out there, and a major base on the planet has now been hit." Compassion temporarily crowded his expression and forced away the anxiety. "Will those who are able to respond attempt to rescue their brothers?" he asked curiously. "Or are they so vindictive a people that they will stop at nothing to keep us from escaping?"

"With respect, I submit that what we learn today will apply only to members of the Tholian military," countered Spock. "Those who lead dictatorships seldom respect the rights of sentient individuals, but that does not necessarily indicate they represent the morality of the Tholian culture as a whole."

"_Group Five is aboard_."

"Point taken Mr. Spock."

A moment later the bridge spun wildly to port in reaction to multiple weapons hits from circling Tholian vessels. Smoke and fire erupted from several of the backup stations not currently in use. Both Spock and Uhura grabbed portable fire extinguishers and began spraying the visible flames. Still holding her extinguisher, Uhura reseated herself and studied the newest reports carefully. "We have minor hull breaches on deck nine, forward," she reported. "I am re-assigning one of the damage control teams to take resolve the problem."

Sulu's expression was suddenly wistful. "I'm sorry sir," he declared with a sharp, frustrated shake of his head. "Those ships are _fast_… two of them slipped through our defensive perimeter and got a shot at the underside of our saucer." Even as he spoke the phasers resumed firing. One of the Tholian ships on the main viewscreen took both hits and tumbled awkwardly away from them, its running lights flickering briefly and then darkening completely.

"That's okay Lieutenant," stated Kirk reassuringly. "Just be ready to leave at a moment's notice. Our time to orbit this planetoid is growing short…"

"_Captain, we've got a problem in the main transporter room,_" Lt. Kyle declared unexpectedly.

"_I had a lock on Group Seven, but that last hit knocked out pads one and five._"

"Interference from all the weapons fire isn't helping matters," added Spock.

"_My point is, we've still got twenty-three people down there, including crewman Rowan._"

"Understood Mr. Kyle." Kirk flashed a glance in Spock's direction and held up four fingers. "Are the status monitors for the other four pads still reading green?" he asked, even as the Vulcan silently understood his meaning and nodded slowly in agreement. The Captain smiled confidently as he lowered his fingers and came to a decision.

"_They are_."

"Shut down the two damaged pads. Use the other four to beam up the remaining people in three trips, eight per transport."

"_Acknowledged_." In the background they could hear Kyle issuing orders to the support engineers standing next to him at the transporter controls. Two of them held large black tool kits at the ready in case they needed to conduct hasty repairs on its complex, internal circuitry.

"Many of the Tholians are continuing to back away," pointed out Sulu while keeping a close eye on his targeting scanner. "More than two dozen vessels are turning to attend to their damaged colleagues, and another group is moving down toward the planetoid. It looks as though at least some of them have been reassigned to respond to distress calls."

"Good. That will buy us additional, precious seconds," said a satisfied Kirk. "Mr. Sulu, stand by for a rather abrupt departure. On my order, blast us clear of this system and then aim for the border. Warp nine point anything ought to do for a start. It's time we found out just how fast these Tholian cruisers really are."

Sulu smiled with appreciation. "Aye." Red proximity alerts continued to flash on his console, and he watched them with growing concern. "Not all of the enemy targets are giving up. Five Tholian vessels are trying to move under us again," he noted with renewed caution. "There are two more rising from their previous positions in low orbit of the planet from astern. Captain, I doubt we can stop them all."

"Use your imagination Lieutenant," suggested Kirk. "Keep those ships away from my saucer."

Once again Chekov and Sulu exchanged glances, but this time their expressions were much more serious. "Aye," nodded the Lieutenant affirmatively. "Lt. Uhura, is the damage control team still working along the forward edge of Deck Nine?"

"They are. Do you want me to order them out of there?"

"Please. As fast as possible." He tapped his fingers on the controls of an empty screen and brought up their personnel roster so that he could watch the status of their repair plan. It didn't take long before the new order to evacuate immediately registered.

"Everyone else not on duty has been evacuated to the central, more heavily shielded areas," noted Spock reassuringly, noticing Sulu's hesitation. "Feel free to initiate your infamous pitch and roll tactics."

"The damage control team is retreating back behind the emergency bulkhead," reported Uhura an instant later, laughing politely. "The Chief wants to know if you're about to make more work for them."

Chekov nodded with approval and the enthusiastic helmsman to his left smiled in response. "Initiating evasive maneuvers Captain," Sulu reported, firing the starship's maneuvering thrusters. They took several additional plasma hits from the Tholians. As soon as the rumbling and shaking subsided, he applied a sudden burst of impulse power that accelerated them unexpectedly toward their attackers.

The _Enterprise_, previously an unmoving target, sprang forward in a short sprint and then pivoted in a tight rotation, swinging its lengthy frame around. Sulu used the hard metal surface of the starboard nacelle to knock one of the Tholian vessels off of its attack run and then altered the angle of the thrusters, turning the leading edge of the saucer back toward the main group of ships. The fast moving Tholians were already too close for Chekov to use torpedoes, so the helmsman picked another one off with the phasers and then deliberately rammed three more. The forward edge of the saucer slammed into them and drove them powerfully backward, overpowering their engines and crumpling the hulls of the much smaller alien cruisers.

The massive size of the starship became readily apparent once it effortlessly nosed past its attackers, bumping them aside and leaving each with severe structural damage to contend with. Like an angry, lumbering dragon it roared by, leaving the broken Tholian ships hanging helpless in space. Those that had collided with the starship were helpless – they had crumpled hulls and were surrounded by shimmering clouds of active radiation.

There were also thousands of shattered fragments drifting everywhere, debris created from the destruction of whatever passed for windows in the Tholian military. For her part, the _Enterprise_ shrugged off the repeated impacts and continued forward, her course steady and unchallenged. The fierce beast had been slow to awaken, but now that it was fully aroused it charged boldly across the battle field while ships in front of her beat a hasty retreat. Those lurking behind struggled to recharge their weapons, releasing additional plasma bolts as swiftly as they could fire. Still fully powered, the Federation starship's deflector shielding shrugged them off and it continued chasing the obviously rattled Tholians.

"_How_ did you know Captain?" a new voice asked, causing Kirk to turn suddenly. "How did you know that your tactics would be successful?" Amidst all the commotion, he hadn't even noticed Dr. McCoy and Chaplain Thomson exit the turbolift. Thomson studied the Captain's expression carefully, noting the bold, charismatic confidence displayed there – even in the heat of all out combat. "Surely you wouldn't risk _all_ of our lives on a gut instinct…"

"The risk was _minimal_ sir," objected Kirk in response. "The Tholians have traditionally been a space-based species, and they exist in an atmosphere totally alien to our own. How could they have known about conventional battle tactics and weaponry when it cannot physically exist in their environment?" He shook his head firmly. "No, there was _very_ little possibility of their having any extensive experience with weaponry other than those utilizing the modern, directed energy discharge style common to space based vessels." His determination never wavered. "Even so, I didn't bet our entire future on that assumption." He grinned, turning to regard the Chaplain brazenly. "We _tested_ them first."

Thomson thought about Kirk's comment for a moment while his gaze continually shifted back and forth between the Captain's face and the ongoing, explosive fireworks display taking place on the central viewscreen. "The _weapons!_" he concluded. "That's one of the reasons you brought _firearms_ with you…"

"Exactly." The Captain continued watching his people carefully, searching for signs of problems or unexpected developments. Surprisingly, they had encountered far fewer than expected and could only hope that the trend continued. "When we showed up on the surface with rifles and handguns, the Tholians considered them to be our standard armament and thereby powerless. Otherwise they would have opposed our keeping them by threatening the prisoners, this ship, or used some other leverage to force us to hand them over. But they didn't… that's what cinched my decision to leave. The Tholians considered us helpless and the _Enterprise_ a powerless, captured prize. It is a huge tactical mistake that has cost them dearly today and I dare say an event that they will not soon forget." His eyes moved suddenly and settled on McCoy. "By the way Doctor, we're still at red alert. Shouldn't you be in Sickbay, tending to the injured?"

The Doctor harrumphed indignantly. "You wound _me_ sir," he growled irritably, holding up the bulky medical kit he had brought along with him. "Most of the _senior_ command staff is currently located on the bridge of this starship. I have medics stationed on every other deck. _You_ get _me_."

Nonplussed, the Captain simply smiled. "How's Marcus doing?"

Snorting with laughter, McCoy shook his head with dismay. "He _asked_ to return to duty, if you can believe it. I treated and bandaged his wound, then administered a sedative so he can rest."

Amused, Kirk redirected his attention toward the open Comm-link. "Mr. Kyle, how's it going down there?" he asked inquisitively. "Remember, we are planning to leave here…"

"_The last seven are materializing now Captain. Crewman Rowan is home_." There was a brief pause as Mr. Kyle confirmed the transport completion. "_We've got them Captain. We've successfully recovered everyone_." The elation in Kyle's voice was difficult to miss.

"Mr. Sulu, please raise ventral shielding."

"Done."

"Now get us the hell out of here."

"Aye Captain," nodded Hikaru Sulu calmly. "Chekov's course back toward the border is laid in and ready. I'm completing an impulse turn toward new heading 112, mark 6. Engaging main engines _now_…" he continued, smiling fiercely as he spoke the words, "… at warp nine point anything."

In a blinding flash of white light, the starship _Enterprise_ launched itself toward the distant, shining stars.


	18. The Darkness And The Light

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**The Darkness And The Light

* * *

**

Alpha Quadrant, February 28, 2154, Aboard the Borg Queen's ship

* * *

It had taken several days for her personal, diamond-shaped cruiser to penetrate deeply into Alpha Quadrant space, but the Borg Queen found herself pleased as the vessel finally dropped to sub-light velocity. She gazed out a window at a vista of shining stars completely alien to her. Experiments with trans-warp were continuing to improve the technology of Borg faster-than-light travel with each passing day – she even entertained high hopes of someday coordinating the creation of temporary _and_ permanent, stable wormholes that would allow the Borg full access to all four of the galaxy's quadrants.

For now the trip was still a lengthy one, and she had decided to make it for two reasons. The first of these was to delay the inevitable arrival of the mysterious aliens who had attacked her Collective. After all, the people responsible were targeting _her _as much as they were after the rest of the Borg in her massive nest, so she needed time in order to plan and develop a counter offensive. They would have to continually search for her as her vessel sped swiftly from one quadrant to another, and she hoped that her eventual destination would catch them by surprise. The potential to turn the tables on her pursuers was the second reason for this prolonged journey.

"_I'm coming for you, leader of Borg. I'm going to destroy your Collective first and then YOU_."

She had replayed that simple message over and over since the earlier attack on her fleet, but not to study its contents for clues. In actuality the Queen silently enjoyed watching the arrogance on the face of the alien as he spoke those seventeen words… a message that lasted less than five seconds. He obviously felt very confident that the Borg were completely under his control, and that there was nothing they could do to stop his plan to destroy them. Indeed, his ships were very powerful – especially the spherical shaped weapon escorting his slender, cylindrical flagship. Even when he had chosen to initiate a cloaking field, the shields of both ships had been so extremely powerful that no Borg scanning technique had even come close to penetrating them. That was why she had been astonished at his lone mistake, one that was so simple and avoidable it was almost impossible to believe he had not handed it to her intentionally.

_The man standing and facing her in that short, five second video was not a normal humanoid. Specifically he was an El-Aurian… species 4496 to be exact._

Very few in this man's race had ever managed to find their way to the Delta Quadrant, but since they had such unusually lengthy life spans there had been a few. The galaxy was a large place, after all, with many strange and wonderful things taking place within its boundaries each and every day. Until she had received the video transmission, the Queen had considered El-Aurians as a simple footnote in her database of Alpha Quadrant species… just another race amongst hundreds of thousands that could be investigated further at some point in the future when Borg technology improved enough to grant them easier access to the other side of the galaxy. But then her attacker had transmitted his bold challenge just prior to his initial attack, thereby revealing to her a great deal about his identity. If he possessed a Collective of his own, such a group mind would surely have advised him against the use of both video and audio when audio alone would have sufficed. And if he possessed enhanced Borg eyesight, her enemy would not have assumed she would be unable to discern his true race simply because he appeared to be an ordinary humanoid to the average, biological eye. _She could look so very far deeper, and see so much, much more_.

Everything had changed then. Reorganizing her fleet to counter attack became a much lower priority – currently there was no way she could hope to defeat shields and weaponry powered by Omega. Establishing an escape route for herself and gaining additional time to plan had been pushed all the way to the top of her list of important things. After all, it was obvious just by listening to the man's words and his arrogant tone of voice… his primary target was _her_, the leader of the Borg. He knew that if he destroyed her, then the rest of the Collective would thereby perish. And he had come perilously close to doing just that – the only thing that had preserved her was her absence during the assault. The cloning facility in the uni-complex that she relied upon during times like these was gone… destroyed during the astonishing, unexpected ferociousness of the attack.

Her humanoid brain was almost seventy percent technology – the memories easily replaced from backup storage once a new body was cloned. At times she had even used her own death as a tactical strategy, intentionally permitting enemies to destroy her and thus deceiving them into thinking that she was gone and her Collective thrown into chaos. Unfortunately, this new enemy had enough tactical knowledge to realize that striking the uni-complex would destroy the heart and soul of the Borg. It would now take a reasonable period of time for her drones to regenerate and repair their own damaged vessels, and even longer for them to lay the groundwork for a new home base.

Reviewing past projects, she concluded that at least several days would be needed before construction of a suitable, new cloning facility could begin. In the interim, the massive number of drones serving within the Collective needed one thing from her… to be left _alone_ so that they had the necessary time to rest and regenerate before getting back to work. Therefore, her abrupt departure toward so distant a target as El-Auria was in actuality _protecting_ Borg ships and drones throughout the entire Delta Quadrant. If her enigmatic enemy was still pursuing her, as she suspected he surely would, then the rest of the Collective was free to plan, organize, and rebuild. Connected via their trans-galactic subspace link, active tactical drones would continue to maintain close contact and advise her.

Determined to find some sort of weapon to use against her pursuer, the Queen slowed the course of her starship on the edge of the El-Aurian star system. Then she dispatched a small scout ship, a tiny six drone pod that detached effortlessly and moved under steady impulse power farther into the system. She noticed almost immediately that the El-Aurian people were already a space-faring race, still fairly primitive but nevertheless possessing warp drive. It was therefore essential for both her ship and the scout vessel to remain emission quiet as they explored this strange new Alpha Quadrant world and its inhabitants. She wanted to know more about them, to learn specifically why someone from this system had chosen to come after her. According to initial scans, there was simply no way these people could currently possess technology of the kind that had been used in the uni-complex attack. Discovering specifically where this new, extremely vengeful enemy had obtained its firepower was now a very high objective on her growing list of priorities.

_An image of El-Auria – a planet literally thriving with life – appeared on one of the monitors in front of her. Curiously, the Queen studied its continents and oceans with growing interest. Smiling slyly, the Queen came to a decision and transmitted new orders to the drones aboard her scout vessel…

* * *

_

Alpha Quadrant, March 2, 2154, El-Aurian Home World

* * *

Vialla Soran stepped out of her streamlined vehicle cautiously, brushing aside the locks of curly blonde hair that fell across her face. "Come, come now Nica," she told her nine year old daughter while using one hand to smooth away wrinkles in the flower pattern on her red print dress. "School is over and we are home. Go into the house, change clothes and fix yourself a snack. I have to unbuckle your little brother from his safety seat, and then I'll be in too."

"Okay Momma," nodded Nica, stepping out of the car and into the bright sunlight beaming down from a cloudless blue sky. "Does Tonner want a snack too?"

Laughing lightly, Vialla smiled at her daughter as she lifted her eight month old infant out of his safety seat. "Probably," she decided, smoothing little Tonner's small crop of dark hair. His deep blue eyes gazed lovingly into hers and he giggled as his small hands reached for her hair. "However, Tonner's snack will be baby formula, not regular table food."

Sporting lengthy blonde locks just like her mother, Nica vanished inside the house with a shrill cry of enthusiasm. "Today is the day that _DADDY_ finds out whether or not he gets a raise!" she shouted, the cheerfulness of her words drifting back in the general direction of the parked vehicle.

_If only it were that simple!_ Vialla cradled the small baby boy in her arms, eyes drifting back and forth as she admired the peaceful, residential neighborhood in which they lived. It had taken Tolian Soran – her husband – many years of hard work in the science industry before they had been able to afford a home suitable enough in which to start a family. Now those tougher days already seemed to be far in the past, and she did not regret for one minute any of the sacrifices they had made leading up to their current level of prosperity. "I sure hope your father's current proposal is accepted," commented Mrs. Soran under her breath. "If it isn't, he's going to have to look for other work and we're going to have to tighten our belts in all sorts of ways." She shifted Tonner's small form to the crook in her left arm and used her right hand to firmly slam the vehicle door. Then she carried her precious bundle across the lengthy paved driveway leading to the garage entrance of her home.

It was a bright and cheerful sunny day, with a cool breeze tousling the leaves and flowers on all of the colorful, growing things. Many of the neighborhood children were out on their front lawns, running, laughing and playing in the midst of the fresh spring air. If getting started on the family dinner had not been next on her list of priorities, Vialla almost certainly would have remained outdoors for awhile longer… possibly even putting Tonner in his stroller and taking him for a lazy tour of the residential streets. Her next door neighbor, Curadi Olsher, was busy raking leaves in his front yard. He was a tall, thin bachelor who had lived next to the Sorans for many years. Mrs. Soran paused briefly, glancing back at the gray-haired old man. She could not recall ever seeing him without a cheerful smile, and so his manner on this particular day immediately caught her attention.

"Good day Mr. Olsher," she announced pleasantly, expecting to see him flash his familiar, friendly grin. Instead, Curadi continued slowly raking his lawn, staring blankly ahead as though he was in some sort of trance. Occasionally he would raise his head just long enough to conduct a brief survey of the surrounding neighborhood. Otherwise he kept his head down and his concentration focused completely on his yardwork. Mrs. Soran didn't know why, but his blank, emotionless expression – the way in which he simply stared right past her as though she wasn't even standing there – sent a sudden chill down her spine. "I hope all is well with you," she commented idly and awkwardly, stepping swiftly past him and toward the garage entrance to the Soran house. _Obviously_, she concluded silently, _something serious was bothering Mr. Olsher and he simply wasn't in the mood to discuss the matter_.

Shaking her head with mild frustration, Vialla pulled her keycard out of the garage entrance door, right where Nica had left the keychain dangling after using it to open up. She moved up a small flight of stairs and entered the main, well furnished living room. "Mom, can I go outside and play?" Nica's high-pitched youthful voice drifted down from her upstairs bedroom as Vialla leaned down and set Tonner on the floor amongst a sea of colorful toddler toys on a soft, tan rug.

The Mother in her couldn't resist. "Do you have homework?"

"Not today. But I will tomorrow."

"Okay then," decided Mrs. Soran. "As soon as you eat a little something and watch Tonner long enough for me to change clothes, you may go out and play. It will be awhile yet before I can get dinner started." The memory of Curadi Olsher's vague, trance-like stare stirred suddenly in her memory, unsettling her for the second time. "Stay away from Mr. Olsher today… I think something's bothering him."

"That old coot! Not a problem… I'll be over at Anatti's." As before, Nica's words filtered softly down the gently spiraling staircase. Vialla listened with interest to the familiar sound of her daughter clunking and thumping around in her bedroom up above as she moved quickly to change from her school clothes into a more informal outfit. Glancing toward her giggling baby as he sat joyfully and sucked on his toys, Mrs. Soran smiled with the loving warmth that could only come from a satisfied mother and headed upstairs to make certain her daughter wasn't creating a colossal mess.

Later, Mrs. Soran was busy cutting up vegetables to mix into a bubbling stew when her husband, Dr. Tolian Soran, finally arrived home. His forest green vehicle pulled up next to hers in the driveway, and she could hear the voices of neighborhood children calling out to him as he emerged from within. Shortly thereafter, squeals and howls of delight from those very same kids convinced her that her husband would never grow up. Obviously, he had dedicated a few precious minutes of his time to chasing down a few of the closest and loudest offenders.

She smiled warmly at him when Soran finally made a quick pass through the kitchen, just long enough to peck her on the cheek and grab a couple of vegetables to munch on. Leaning down with a wide grin spreading across his features, the Doctor proceeded to pick up tiny Tonner and lifted him high into the air. "How's my boy?" he asked, making a buzzing sound with his mouth and pressing it against the young child's bare belly. "How is _my_ little _boy _doing?"

"You're late," Vialla stated factually, not looking up at him as she continued to expertly slice vegetables. "Does that mean you have good news, or bad?" This time she did glance up, noticing with silent relief that he was actually smiling victoriously at her.

"They approved _everything_ Vialla," Soran told her triumphantly. "Even the long-term project is back on the table… my suggestions for improving our star charts have all been accepted. I've just obtained funding for decades… perhaps more."

Mrs. Soran set down the knife and used a hand towel to wipe her hands. "That's so _wonderful_ to hear, Tolian!" she replied enthusiastically. "Only a week ago it sounded as though they might defund you. I truly love this neighborhood and all the new friends that we made, but keeping a home as big as this one while relying only on my salary would have been difficult." She crossed the room and gave him a big hug, and – with their baby boy pressed between them – she kissed Tonner smartly on his pink cheek.

"Rest assured, I'm going to have plenty to do for _many_ years," promised Tolian Soran with relish. "As our exploration vessels continue to journey outward, they're going to need up-to-date navigational data. We're going to learn a lot more about the huge galaxy of stars surrounding us, and they're going to raise my salary to so high a level that _you_ can even quit your job if you want to!"

A bit surprised, Vialla pulled away just slightly. "Oh, I don't think that will be necessary," she decided firmly. "I really like having a career of my own, and I think it presents me as the best possible role model for Nica. Most of her friends have stay at home Moms, and I'd like her to know that she has lots of choices when she grows up." There was a glint in his eyes, a hint of an expression that she immediately recognized after years of marriage to him. "What is it Tolian?" she asked curiously, her mind whirling with sudden trepidation. "What's the catch to all of this good news?" she frowned.

Soran laughed uproariously. "There's simply no way for me to deceive you," he chuckled, pulling her closer and hugging her again. "It's nothing really. Eventually, after we get a few of the longer range observatories in place, I will be required to work off-planet for several months at a time… probably only once per season." He shrugged indifferently, obviously not too concerned. "But that's only if we reach stage _three_ of my long-term plan, which is _decades_ away at minimum. We'll have both our children grown, highly educated and fully integrated into the working world by then."

Casting a wry smile at her husband, Vialla watched his reaction carefully. "What if we decide to have more than _two_ children?" she asked, curious as to his response.

"Hmm," replied Soran slowly, carefully setting young Tonner back amidst his scattered pile of toys. He turned his head far enough so that he too could watch her. "Do you _really_ want more than two?"

It took her a few seconds to respond, but she finally shook her head negatively. "I think our family is perfect just the way it is," she concluded. "It would be much more difficult to maintain my full-time employment with three…"

"…or four, or even five or _six!_"

"Now you're just being ridiculous," snapped Mrs. Soran with mock disapproval. "Why don't you put your mind to something more helpful and go track down Nica. She said she was going to head over to Anatti's house and play until dinner is ready."

He inhaled deeply, appreciating the pleasant aroma from the meat already simmering on the stove top. "How long until we eat?"

"Another cycle or so. But she should come home anyway and spend some time with her family."

"Okay. I'll change clothes and then go and get her."

A thought struck Vialla out of nowhere. "If he's still around while you're out and about, why don't you stop and visit with Mr. Olsher for a minute or two," she suggested. "I said hello to him earlier, and he totally ignored me. I think something's terribly wrong in that lonely, poor bachelor's life."

Soran nodded in acknowledgement. "I'll be sure and do that."

Mrs. Soran returned to the kitchen and resumed slicing vegetables. After her husband finished changing into casual attire, he descended from the upper level and headed outdoors. Vialla cracked a window to let in a little fresh air, and then finished her food preparation with the sound of laughing children also drifting in from the outside. _We are so lucky_, she decided silently, smiling with complete contentment.

* * *

Alpha Quadrant, March 2, 2154, Aboard the Borg Queen's ship

* * *

The Borg Queen's survey of the El-Aurian home world was only partially complete when Tolian Soran's two vessels materialized behind her cruiser. She hadn't expected it to take long for him to find her once the ship stopped moving – it was only the constant, relentless shifting from one location to the next that had kept him at bay. Now all the leader of the Borg Collective could hope for was that her final stop would catch him by surprise. If his people were like ninety-nine percent of the rest of the worlds she regularly assimilated, then the prospect of his own world's destruction might cause him to hesitate. It was the only card she had left to play, since not even Borg technology could hope to stop his weapons.

Seconds after the pair of enemy ships decloaked, the long, cylindrical vessel transmitted a hail followed by a demand to communicate. Slowly the Queen crossed the control cabin aboard her command vessel and eased in front of a circular viewscreen. She accepted the hail with the wave of an index finger and once again found herself looking at the same white-haired El-Aurian. He sneered at the sight of her as both sides of the communication stabilized, and it was obvious that his over-confidence had gotten the best of him. Apparently her sudden journey to his home star system hadn't rattled him, and that left the Queen with a sudden internal quiver of fear and very few remaining options. If he was so hell bent on destroying her that he no longer cared about his own people, then she had absolutely nothing left to negotiate with. There were a few ideas left to try, however. The voices of her tactical drones had suggested them, and their continued support and non-stop flow of alternatives reassured her.

"_Now then, Queen of the Borg. Are you ready to surrender yourself to me, or would you like to waste more time traveling to someone_ else's _home world?_"

The Queen ignored the taunt, and instead replaced the visual of her trim figure that he was seeing on his end of the transmission with an image of the nearby planet. On the still active audio, she could clearly hear him chuckling. "Leave us alone and your world will not be assimilated," she stated brusquely in response to his taunt. "Continue to attack us and I will make certain that your people are the next to join our Collective."

"_Please do not misunderstand_," replied Soran dourly with a rare hint of respect in his tone. "_It is truly impressive that you managed to figure out who I am and where I'm from. But do you know why it is _ME_ specifically who chooses to attack your ships and drones… have you figured that out yet?_"

The Queen continued prodding him, replacing the image of his planet with an aerial view of his city. Her hope had been that the familiar sights so close to his own home and family would cause his resolve to falter, but the idea wasn't working. Nor apparently, did the fact that the Borg had been present for more than an hour prior to his arrival. On her screen, Soran simply stood there with his arms firmly folded in front of him, confident that he finally had his golden trophy within reach. "There is residual temporal radiation clinging to the shields of your lead vessel," she told him. "Obviously, as our trans-warp technology improves this will be one of the first worlds to be targeted once the Collective expands toward the Alpha Quadrant. I believe that you somehow located technology sophisticated enough to challenge us at some point in the future and chose to come back in time to put a stop to our conquests _before_ they take place. Correct?"

"_Excellent!_" decided Soran with his trademark smugness. He tapped his temple with a forefinger for emphasis. "_You've definitely got that group mind thing working very well for you today. It's almost a shame, now that I have finally caught you, to put an end to so diabolical a mind. But I'm afraid that I made the decision long ago to destroy you, and my having personally witnessed the destructive techniques you regularly employ to add to your 'technological and biological distinctiveness' has left very little room in my heart for mercy_." He sneered at her with contempt and obvious disgust. "_If _you_ still have a heart beating within that chest of yours, it's going to stop very soon_."

Urged on by the steady, insistent voices of her tactical drones, the Queen played her last card. She altered the image again, switching from the overhead view of his city to a similar one within the dining room in his home. Four people were seated at the table eating dinner – two adults and two children. Again disappointment prevailed, since his expression upon seeing both himself and his family all together never wavered. "Take a good look at that happy scene, Dr. Soran," the Queen suggested. "I have had plenty of time to send drones to the surface of your world. They partially assimilated many civilians on your planet, especially in the neighborhood where you and your family live. None of the citizens I control have visible implants yet, but I assure you I have command of the entire area even if everything appears to be normal. Therefore, my offer to spare your world still stands, _if_ you agree to withdraw immediately and unconditionally."

He responded by removing a thin, silver pen-like device from the front of his shirt and tapping a control key on the top of it with his thumb. A bright green light began flashing on the small device and – just like that – the voices of the Collective faded from the Queen's consciousness. Only seconds before she had heard the pleasing harmony of thousands of voices all speaking as one, but now her mind was filled with total and complete silence. For someone accustomed to the comfort and constant companionship offered by the diverse chorus of voices within the Collective, the experience of suddenly losing them caught her by surprise. She had worked very hard at setting a trap for her enemy, expecting to catch him completely off guard. Instead, Doctor Tolian Soran appeared to truly be in full control of everything taking place, and his actions continued to rattle _her_.

"_Are you still planning to assimilate my world?_" he asked curiously, his words laced with scorn. "_If so, then you're going to have to do so all by yourself, one person at a time. Your entire Collective no longer exists… I have just accessed all of your subspace transceiver bands throughout the entire galaxy and permanently dismantled them. Without drones to interact with and restore communications, the vinculum processors on your ships and planets all over this galaxy will slowly deteriorate and eventually fail. Everyone you held control of only seconds ago has now been liberated from your cold embrace_." He glared heatedly at her. "_I apologize for not allowing you to say good bye, but then you failed to grant me a similar courtesy when YOU assimilated my family and friends._"

Desperately the Queen struggled to maintain key systems and major command functions. It was difficult for her to do so and growing tougher by the second. For the moment she managed to maintain control of her vessel, but only by accessing its nearly fully automated hardware and software. One of the tactical drones had suggested a possibility earlier, and she clung to that last, desperate shred of hope… especially given Soran's most recent statement. "_…you failed to grant me a similar courtesy when YOU assimilated my family and friends_," he had stated angrily.

And yet the radiation still clinging to his vessel's exterior hull was not only temporal, but trans-universal as well. That meant that this particular Collective had done nothing to his family – it was another Borg Queen and her own task force in some other universe that eventually conquered his planet. _Could it be he didn't know about the universe transit? Was there another unknown third party of some sort involved, stringing him along and making their problem hers?_ Her tactical drones had certainly believed so right up until the instant she lost contact with them. The Borg themselves had at times flirted with universal transit technology, but the experiments rarely led to anything useful. Many alternate realities contained Borg Collectives similar to her own, and over the years an unspoken agreement had evolved between them. _I'll leave yours alone if you leave mine untouched_. And so other prospects inevitably ended up getting all the attention, such as the potential to eventually access a theoretical, fluidic space.

For the last time, she altered the image that Soran was seeing, replacing the visual of him and his family on the home world with a chart of radiation readings from his own vessel's hull and shields. First she displayed a detailed graphic of the temporal radiation signatures that had initially given away his use of time travel. After letting him view the data for approximately thirty seconds or so she added in the residual pentatonic shift traces common to a recent universe shift. "That is _not_ a younger version of you down on the planet's surface," she stated, using her most confident tone of voice even though the silence and isolation was beginning to weigh on her. "If revenge is truly your primary motive, then _why_ have you attacked the Collective in _this_ universe? Shouldn't you have punished the Borg in your _own_ realm?" The Queen was tempted to say more, but purposefully held back. He had inadvertently revealed too much information to her, and she did not want to make the same mistake.

The astonished look on his face told her that the Queen had finally managed to shake him up, simply by telling him something that he _didn't _already know. There was obviously an unseen, third party involved, since someone had given the man access to technology so far advanced that it defied anything previously developed or discovered within the Milky Way galaxy. If _that_ kind of sophisticated weaponry and shielding were truly available and in use at any time up until the present, then the Borg would have known about it. They possessed a vast history of ancient races and the databases they had left behind… there was absolutely nothing in those records indicating devices with power even close to the scale he had wielded, and certainly no records of anyone successfully tapping into Omega.

"_I… I…_" Soran began a sentence with his usual derisive stare, but his obvious astonishment caused him to lose control of his demeanor. He trailed off suddenly and stared in complete shock at the statistics she was showing him. Then he waved a hand sharply at someone off-screen, requesting that he or she confirm that the data she had presented to him for his perusal was indeed accurate.

"Nothing to say Doctor?" snapped the Queen with a sudden, triumphant condescension of her own. "You've been in _our_ universe for several days now, and the evidence of your journey has been clinging to your exterior hull the _entire_ time. Your reaction tells me that you didn't even know that you had been shifted. So why don't we forget for a moment that you are chasing me and discuss just who has been chasing and manipulating _you?_" Under normal circumstances her tactical drones would be working furiously, using this unexpected and prolonged delay to adapt and plan a new angle of attack or escape. But her enemy's control over her Collective was proving to be an effective one, and there were still no voices but her own within the confines of her mind. The Queen could do nothing now except enjoy his discomfort until he regained his wits and decided to finish her off. It was inevitable… the barely contained rage still burning within the man's psyche was clearly obvious as he glared at her with complete loathing.

"_I'm coming over there_," he promised, snapping abruptly back to full alertness. "_I don't really care where you're from. You're Borg and by your very nature you inflict constant misery on everyone you come in contact with. I began my journey to destroy Borg, so it doesn't concern me in the slightest if you die first. Once you're gone I'll find a way to return to my own universe and resume my efforts there_." The Doctor was clearly still shaken by the sudden revelation that he was no longer in his own universe – his own unknown enemy had very successfully managed to catch _him_ off guard. "_Wait for me, leader of Borg. I'm going to kill you with my bare hands_," Soran promised, interrupting her private thoughts right before he terminated his side of the message.

_And for once, waiting helplessly was all that the Queen could think to do.

* * *

_

Alpha Quadrant, March 2, 2154, Aboard the _Thraex

* * *

_

Clearly agitated, Dr. Tolian Soran paced first one way and then the other aboard the bridge of his ship. "So tell me Ishiik," he demanded sharply, staring heatedly at the dark black, unseen face of his companion. "Just _when_ were you and your fellow scientists planning on telling me that we had shifted to an alternate universe?" The four Krell surrounding him had been very busy working steadily ever since the Queen's unexpected announcement in order to verify her claim. Soran had failed to maintain his cool during the rest of his conversation with the Borg leader, and as soon as the transmission successfully terminated he nearly went berserk.

The leader of the Krell remained unflappable, as usual. "Obviously the transit was accomplished using the previously unexplained energy barrier we passed through six days ago," concluded Ishiik coolly. "At the time, you directed us to delay an investigation of the incident since it allowed us to elude a disabled _Relativity_. I remember pointing out to you at the time that it seemed far too coincidental for something like that to so suddenly appear and disable the Timeship at the precise moment we needed a diversion. As usual, your own interests took precedence over mine."

"Yes, yes, I remember," growled Soran irritably, finding the nearest chair and plopping down into its cushioned comfort. "It appears as though I too bear some culpability in this matter." He glanced across the bridge toward the science station, where his RI-CAD headset was currently sitting idle. "We have been unable to make use of the Preserver network because it would allow our enemy to locate us. Unfortunately and quite obviously, that has not stopped _them_ from making full use of it."

"Captain Ducane presented us with exactly what we wanted to see," Ishiik continued somberly. "His ship appeared to be disabled, allowing us an escape route along with a clear path toward the Borg we sought to kill. Unfortunately, the energy field that hampered his warp drive was also designed to shift us into another realm. Without realizing it, we attacked a completely _different _Collective – it is extremely probable that _nothing_ has changed in our home universe. _These_ Borg are the ones in danger of extinction, not ours…"

Folding the fingers of both hands together into a temple shape, Soran nodded in partial agreement. He swiveled to the right, facing the inky black alien shape standing next to him. "Your description of the methodology is probably accurate, but I seriously doubt Captain Ducane could have managed such a feat," he concluded sourly. "It was undoubtedly one of those androids – Data or Commander Roberts. And that leads us to _the_ question of the hour – just _where_ exactly have they sent us?" he asked inquisitively. "The entire thing doesn't make sense to me… _why_ would they act so decisively to preserve the Borg in _their_ galaxy while sacrificing a similar Collective in _this_ one? It violates every one of those Starfleet non-interference directives that they endlessly preach to everyone."

"Unless they choose to share their reasoning with us, we cannot possibly determine their motive."

His anger subsiding somewhat, Soran waved his right hand in front of him. "So _what_ do I do _now?_" he snapped heatedly. "I can go over there and kill that Queen, but she _isn't_ the Borg we're after." The the rest of the pieces fell into place, and the entire truth dawned on him. "For that matter, neither were the drones on any of those ships we annihilated."

"I concur. We have indeed been handed a puzzle to solve," agreed Ishiik.

"_More_ than one actually," countered Soran with a dark chuckle. "_How_ do we get _back?_"

This time it was Ishiik who laughed heartily. "One of the advantages of this tactic is that they have left us with no choice but to make use of the RI-CAD headset," he pointed out. "If there is a network similar to ours lurking in subspace here within this realm, we will eventually need to access it in order to search for a matching pentatonic scale. The computers of the _Thraex_ already contain the coordinates of our home universe, but not this one. We must hope that the Preserver data warehouse residing in this reality is as comprehensive and accurate as its counterpart back home."

"Find _another_ way," suggested Soran emphatically. "Our sensors and defensive systems were all fully active when that energy barrier struck us. Study the telemetry for clues, and we'll use the RI-CAD as a last resort if you are unable to successfully discover the information needed for a return trip."

"If I may ask, Doctor… why not simply make use of it now? We would likely be able to use the data and return to our own realm before the Starfleet crew detects its activation and moves to…"

"No." Tolian Soran rose impatiently from his seat and briskly crossed the deck of the bridge. He picked up the electronic Preserver headset and smiled wickedly. "Because," he stated bluntly, "I believe we have delayed long enough already and no doubt raised our waiting Queen's anxiety." His fingers worked to fasten the device in place around his cranium – its brightly colored lights immediately flared to life upon sensing the close proximity of his thought patterns. "_You_ and your people begin working on a method to take us home," he ordered commandingly. "In the interim, I will send a projection of myself over to that Borg vessel and make certain that the Collective in this universe dies completely. All Ducane and the others have done is delay the inevitable." He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating. "When I'm finished with _this_ particular Queen Bee, we'll use the headset to access anything you need, return home and attack our own Collective."

The Doctor reseated himself and used his thoughts to activate the RI-CAD's isomorphic projector…

…instantly sending a precision-detailed copy of himself aboard the Borg Queen's command vessel. He appeared in a dimly lit corridor flickering with strobe-like flashes of bright white light amidst the subdued background lighting, and it was immediately obvious that his liberation of all drones had initiated all-out chaos. A few Borg were still standing in a line along the far wall, quietly regenerating and completely oblivious to the collapse of their Collective. Those who remained active were staggering back and froth, most of them wide-eyed with fear and lack of direction. Many of them repeatedly ran into each other or the physical objects surrounding them, unable to deal with the sudden independence that accompanied the collapse of their subspace communications.

Those who had been assimilated at birth were the most panicked, since they had never known another way of life. Others had spent years as Borg after being assimilated as adults. These drones, too, were understandably confused and scared since their humanoid memories were buried deep within their minds. Very few of them spoke, even though some still manned their stations while struggling to focus on the systems they were maintaining as they awkwardly worked to carry out their most recently assigned instructions. Without a constant supply of fresh orders, the vast majority of them were finding even their usual, routine tasks extremely difficult.

_What happens next?_ thought Soran as he moved through the corridor, ignoring most of them.

One of the drones staggered in his direction and raised his right, humanoid arm. "What has happened?" he asked Soran in a desperate, electronically enhanced voice and eyes filled with fear. "Where are the voices? Where have the voices gone?"

"It's your lucky day, _that's_ what has happened," chuckled Soran curtly. He pushed the astonished drone out of his way and continued moving relentlessly down the corridor. The RI-CAD headset worn by the real Soran aboard the _Thraex_ was relaying position coordinates to him, and he smiled as his mind processed the newest data. Apparently, the Queen had somehow managed to detect his arrival. She had moved away from the control area where she normally stood and was fleeing for her life.

_That's right_, the El-Aurian scientist thought silently. _FEEL the anxiety that all the others have felt._ _FEEL what it's like to run for your life – for your continued survival. UNDERSTAND what it's like knowing all the time that resistance is futile, and that who and what you are will soon be forcefully taken from you_.

_Run!_

Soran used the vast, electronic powers at his disposal to temporarily reactivate the local Borg subspace band – careful to restrict access to shipboard communications only. "_I AM THE NEW LEADER OF THE BORG!_" he stated commandingly. "_I AM THE ONE VOICE THAT PRESIDES OVER ALL!_"

Very swiftly he shut down the system for a second time, since the part of his mind still capable of feeling compassion filling instantly with shame. He continued to walk through the corridors of the massive control vessel, and as he spoke the words the vulnerable, liberated drones surrounding him shrieked with in absolute terror. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were going through, and the unexpected presence of his angry, hateful voice in place of their normal harmonic chorus struck their already damaged mental faculties with yet another unnecessary shock. Almost all of them were panicking now, abandoning their posts and running wildly about in search of safe havens that no longer existed. A few who still possessed some of their own personal memories managed to step into regeneration chambers and thereby postpone their shock and dread until the end of the next rest cycle.

The Queen was very familiar with the ship's layout, and she quickly proved that she still possessed much more of an independent spirit than Soran expected. Even without an endless supply of advice from carefully filtered drone communications, the newly deposed leader of the Borg led him a merry chase. She had already found an electronic lift and moved several decks above him. Unimpressed, the Doctor continued using the RI-CAD to monitor a variety of things: shipboard status, the Queen's current location, and he also used the _Thraex_'s main computer to de-activate the vessel's self-destruct function. There was going to be no easy way out for her… he intended to terrorize her and then destroy her once and for all.

In his mind a precision-scanned layout of the entire command ship appeared, and he used the map in conjunction with the Queen's position to predict her next destination. Then, cackling with renewed enthusiasm, Soran used the headset to instantly switch his isomorphic projection to a corridor on the same deck as his fleeing prey. She came around the bend in front of him an instant later and spotted him immediately, her dark eyes filling with a dread that Soran had previously only dreamed about seeing. _He had done it!_ He had tracked her down and filled her with the same pain and hopelessness that she had inflicted upon billions of others for more than a century. Turning instantly in response to his unexpected presence, the Queen retreated back out into the outer corridor and backpedaled swiftly away from him. But she had no choice but to make her _own_ decisions this time, and it didn't take long before she took a wrong turn and ran into a dead end. Cornered, she spun around with a howl of protest as a sudden burst of anger temporarily overwhelmed her urge to panic.

"_Can you hear me?_" Soran called out, shouting confidently toward the intersection where she had zigged when she should have zagged. "_I'm going to strangle the life out of you until you're dead, Borg witch!_" He could hear her labored breathing and knew that he finally had her. On the bridge of the _Thraex_, he clenched the fingers of both fists tightly together. His action was relayed instantly via the RI-CAD headset, and the hands of the projection instantly mirrored the action. The physical strength of his alter ego, however, was many times that of his own. Smiling with satisfied delight, Tolian Soran paused at the end of the corridor and prepared to confront her for the last time. After that, he would kill her with his simulated bare hands. He took a deep breath and was preparing to take that last, triumphant step that would bring him face to face with her when he unexpectedly heard a second, unexpected voice coming from her location… one that was all too familiar to even electronic ears.

"_Dr. Kalita Rama, your Collective in this galaxy has been irrevocably shattered. If you wish to preserve a detailed, accurate record of your home world's culture and the history that led to the creation of the Borg, there is still time to do so. All you have to do is take my hand_."

Fuming uncontrollably, Dr. Tolian Soran stepped out into the intersection and turned heatedly to face the Borg Queen. Standing directly in front of her was a second, easily recognizable isomorophic projection.

"_DATA!_" Soran screamed at the top of his lungs.

* * *

_**Author's Notes: **I guess the "moral", or primary theme behind this Chapter, involves an examination of the varying definitions of perfection. The Borg Queen has traditionally considered perfection to be the ideal blend of biology and technology (along with throngs of obedient drones, of course!) But I think that, at this particular point in history, Vialla Soran would consider her own life pretty close to perfect. Everyone has to decide for themselves... most of us would choose to stay as we are, unless of course we get to be THE top dog in a Borg Collective!_


	19. Rocks And Shoals

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Rocks And Shoals

* * *

**

Alpha Quadrant, March 2, 2154, _U.S.S. Relativity

* * *

_

Once Soran's vessels stopped moving, it was very easy for Captain Ducane's bridge officers aboard the _Relativity_ to promptly pinpoint his exact location. Over the space of the past several days, they had been following him farther and farther inside Alpha Quadrant space even as the Doctor stayed ahead of them while maintaining his non-stop, relentless pursuit of the Borg Queen. Therefore, only seconds after the renegade scientist activated his RI-CAD headset, Lt. Commander Ingram had his precise location displayed in bright gold text on her screen. "They're in the El-Aurian star system," she reported calmly, eyes shifting to the long range sensor screen as she focused the Timeship's scanners toward that system. "All three ships."

Standing patiently next to her, Ducane smiled wryly. "It makes sense," he noted in response. "The Queen needs leverage now in order to survive. She'll no doubt threaten to assimilate his home world unless he discontinues his pursuit."

"Probably… but how the devil did the Queen manage to figure out _who_ he is?" Jessica asked curiously, her thoughts drifting back to their earlier confrontations as she silently reviewed the unexpected universe shift and Soran's follow-up military confrontation with the Borg fleet in the Delta Quadrant. "The _challenge_ he transmitted to the Queen somehow betrayed his identity," she expertly concluded after pondering the matter a bit more thoroughly. "That's the _only_ way _this_ universe's Collective could peg him for an El-Aurian. If he hadn't sent that message to them, they would never have known who was on board the _Thraex_."

Ducane was not the only officer flanking her. As soon as Frank Roberts, Jean-Luc Picard and James Kirk had boarded the duplicate _Relativity_, he had contacted his Chief Engineer and ordered Adam Nelson to send Erika Hernandez to the bridge. The 29th century as he knew it bore little resemblance to the races that had risen and often times fallen throughout these earliest years of Starfleet. The Captain instinctively wanted an objective third party with combat knowledge around to observe their repeated confrontations with Soran and help him spot weaknesses. It would be very easy for a crew like his, for people who lived primarily in an era of lasting peace, to miss something vital during the many instances when things began to happen quickly.

"I agree with Lt. Commander Ingram's assessment," noted Captain Hernandez, her own gaze fixed on the viewscreen's shifting star shine. Once Ingram successfully determined the location of their target vessels, she had immediately altered the _Relativity_'s course and redirected the starship directly toward El-Auria. Hernandez' expression remained deadpan. "It is even possible he _wanted_ the Queen to visit his home… after all, he's looking for the perfect revenge and his ego has him believing he possesses both superior intelligence and technology."

"We'll drop to impulse and enter the El-Aurian system in nine minutes," stated Ingram professionally. She caught the expression on Ducane's face out of the corner of her eye and laughed. "I already considered and then rejected the option of using a trans-warp corridor to get us there more quickly," she added. "The amount of time needed to create a stable gateway is essentially a wash with the nine minutes, and opening that kind of rift would allow them to detect our arrival even if we remain cloaked."

"Relax Jess, you're doing fine," countered Ducane, placing a hand on the backrest of her seat. "Now is not the time for insecure First Officers. What else do sensors tell us?"

She studied the telemetry carefully. "Nobody's shooting anything yet," she began, reading the data swiftly but efficiently. "The Queen's vessel is listing slightly, as though there's nobody controlling it. That doesn't make any sense because I'm certain that ship is crawling with drones of all…" Ingram's voice trailed off momentarily as an inspiration struck her and she diverted sensors toward subspace. "Soran has used his RI-CAD to collapse all subspace communication bands currently operated by the Collective," she noted. "The Queen and all of her minions can no longer talk to each other… not from anywhere in this galaxy. I think he's got her right where he wants her."

"Anything else?"

It took a few seconds for Ingram reply, but she finally nodded affirmatively in response to his query. "Aye sir. I've located the Queen. There are two isomorphic projections in her immediate vicinity – one is Soran's, and the other matches our records of Data's android specifications. It looks as though our former Captain has seized the iniative again – some sort of confrontation is in progress."

There was a brief pause as Ducane weighed the matter silently and reviewed their options. "As usual Data's timing is impeccable," he noted with a light chuckle. "He has allowed us to catch Soran with his RI-CAD active and his attention focused elsewhere… I think we may just have been handed a unique opportunity to end this chase once and for all," he decided, turning to face Erika Hernandez. "Captain, you and your crew are familiar with the layout of the Xindi sphere, correct?"

"Affirmative." The NX-02 Captain's eyes blazed with bright sparks of confidence. "Everyone in Starfleet had to study that technology during those first few days in the aftermath of the prototype's initial attack on Earth. I've also been studying historical data from the _Relativity_'s archives ever since we discovered that Soran had created his own version of their super weapon."

"Excellent. Then I want you to gather your crew together and prepare a boarding party to capture the sphere. Take Adam Nelson with you to assist with the dismantling of its Omega power source." Ducane was clearly elated at the prospect of a swift and sudden victory. "I'll lead the boarding party to take the _Thraex_, but we're going to have to move fast. As soon as Soran terminates his isomorphic projection, his attention and RI-CAD will once again refocus on other things and he'll no doubt detect our presence in the vicinity of his ships. Once that happens, any chance we have to end this encounterwill be lost."

Jessica Ingram swiveled completely around to face him and frowned doubtfully. "With respect sir, _how_ do we get past their shields? The Omega power sources and engines on both enemy vessels are at _least_ as powerful as our own. Even poking a temporary hole in them long enough to transport through will be almost impossible…"

Already walking toward the upper, starboard walkway, Ducane flashed a confident grin at her. "Believe it or not, I'm going to take a page out of Data's book," he told her firmly. Then he shifted his gaze to the other on-duty personnel. "This ship still has a stable connection with the Preserver network's resource pool, does it not?"

"Affirmative," nodded one of a pair of crewmen standing next to a lengthy row of computer consoles, studying him curiously. "Commander Roberts was making occasional use of it to study Soran's vessels until his recent departure. What are you planning to do?"

Stepping between the two men, Ducane activated a display console and brought up the interface connection that they were using to link the _Relativity_'s main computer with the Preserver network. "Recently I had to review Data's logs from our recent Overseer incident in order to submit a final report to Starfleet. During one of his encounters with the Jem'Hadar, he utilized a technique that gave me an idea," the Captain acknowledged. "I've been itching to try it since this adventure started, but there was no way to attempt it as long as Soran knew we were nearby and had full weapons locked on us. Now that he's distracted it just might work."

Hernandez failed to contain her own inquisitive nature. "_What_ might work?" she asked.

"Even a stabilized chain of Omega molecules has finite limitations as to its maximum energy output," Ducane explained as his fingers tapped commands into the console's keypad. "During our former Captain's initial journey into the Gamma Quadrant, he was attacked by two Jem'Hadar cruisers and managed to link a stable, electromagnetic conduit to his shields. The vast majority of the energy from the enemy assault on his runabout was instantly absorbed by the link and diverted into the subspace network's battery system. It was essentially an exchange… Data donated energy to power their systems in return for continual, ongoing access to the network's resources."

Ingram was nodding now as she began to catch on. "I remember," she responded. "His runabout was powered by a quantum singularity and 29th century technology – he could easily have defeated those two ships without any assistance. But the Preserver network doesn't simply allow its users to repeatedly access its resources without payment of some kind… at least a trade. Periodically its long-term users are required to offer something useful in return for continued access to its resources. With his usual efficiency Data effectively killed two birds with one stone by routing the attack from the Jem'Hadar toward the conduit and converting it into energy needed by the systems hidden in subspace."

"That's what _I_ want to do… we _should_ be able to set up something similar," agreed Ducane. "We _need_ to do something similar – a traditional dampening field against the kind of power source we're up against would take too long to put in place. Therefore, if I can transmit the proper command sequence to the network and have it successfully attach electromagnetic conduits to Soran's ships, we should be able to use Preserver technology to drain away energy from their shields. The network no doubt has an upper limit of its own, but since it reaches across even universal barriers I would imagine that its chain of linked resources can handle significantly more than the finite output from those two vessels. All we need to do is weaken their shields long enough to beam aboard our boarding parties." He stepped toward the metallic safety railing and glanced down toward Erika Hernandez. "_Go_. Assemble your team and prepare to beam aboard the sphere. It won't take Soran's crew very long to respond once I activate our link and begin siphoning away energy."

"Acknowledged." The NX-02 Captain turned toward the turbolift.

"Erika." The Captain stopped her with the sound of her own name. "I would remind you… the Krell _cannot_ be stunned with conventional weaponry. I strongly suggest forming two groups – one with phasers set for pulse fire to wound anyone who resists you, and another with weapons set to maximum just in case they are not prepared to surrender."

"I'll pass that information along to my crew," she agreed firmly. "Anything else?"

"Yes," continued Ducane grimly. "_Let_ Adam Nelson dismantle the Omega. Your people will take down any resistance fighters and provide security for him, but do _not_ try to handle that power source yourselves… it's too dangerous and the slightest mistake could wreck the fabric of space for hundreds of light years in all directions." A grim smile flashed across his face. "Good luck."

"If you can get us safely on board the super weapon, luck will not be needed," Hernandez promised. "My crew has been itching to contribute more to this mission since the start… I guess we have an opportunity." She vanished inside the turbolift as Ducane resumed working with the software linking their main computer to the Preserver network.

While the Captain continued entering command sets, Lt. Commander Ingram opened a Comm-link and ordered the _Relativity_'s security chief to form a second boarding party and then report immediately to the bridge. She also instructed them to bring along an extra tricorder and weapons for Ducane. "I wish I could go with you sir," she growled irritably, obviously disappointed at her own status.

"I know you do Jess," he told her. "But if this doesn't work, then I'm going to need you here on the bridge of _this_ ship. You're smart enough to come up with another way to stop Soran and his ships. Rescue missions will be your _last_ priority… unless we prevail you _must_ destroy them." The turbolift at the rear of the bridge snapped open and allowed half a dozen men and women to pour out. One of the officers handed Ducane a pencil-sized tricorder, a hand phaser and a heavy, streamlined phaser rifle.

"Understood Captain," Ingram told him, waving for another crewmember to take over her station. She trotted up the small stairway at the rear of the bridge and joined Ducane at the interface console. "What about Data's changes to the network security… won't your actions be interpreted as having a negative impact on someone else? Under his new rules, you'll likely be locked out!"

"Not here," grinned Ducane sharply in response. "Not in _this_ Alpha Quadrant. In _this_ universe, there is no Starfleet Protocol governing use of resources outside of subspace… after all, _their_ Data is still Captain of the mirror _Relativity_." He took a few minutes to show her the results of his work. "I've written a program that will order the network to begin attaching electromagnetic conduits to the shield grid of both ships, adding new ones every ten seconds," he explained, showing her the code he had prepared for submission. "The network will continue attaching conduits until each ship's engine output begins to level off at its maximum output. With their shields and other on-board systems effectively weakened, our transporters should be able to penetrate what's left and send our boarding parties through. You will be able to monitor the network status and coordinate site-to-site transports from here."

"Good luck to you too sir," stated Ingram firmly. "You're going to need it."

"Relax. We'll see you soon." He activated his communicator while smiling warmly at the young, extremely reliable Lt. Commander. "Captain Hernandez, are you and your people ready?"

"_Affirmative. Lock onto my Comm-badge and the eleven signals surrounding me_."

"Initiating network connection protocols and the subsequent power drain _now_," said Ducane, the anxiety in his tone elevating just slightly. He tapped a brightly lit button on the keypad and submitted his new program into the networks reception grid. _You don't win blue chips by playing it safe_, he thought silently to himself. _And there's no reason in the world to believe that this won't work_.

Thirty seconds later, Lt. Commander Jessica Ingram verified the plummeting shield grid readings on both enemy ships. Smugly satisfied, she activated the site-to-site transport system and beamed Erika Hernandez's strike team aboard the Xindi sphere. As soon as they materialized successfully, she rerouted shipboard targeting scanners toward Ducane and the rest of his bridge security team. Seconds later, she watched them vanish in a blaze of glittering blue energy with a satisfied smile. "Here comes the unexpected, Dr. Soran," she chuckled with amusement.

* * *

Alpha Quadrant, March 2, 2154, Aboard the Xindi Superweapon

* * *

Flanked by Lt. Joshua Andrews, Sheila Wakefield and the _Relativity_'s Chief Engineer, Erika Hernandez and her team of _Columbia_ security personnel materialized within a blaze of sparkling, sapphire energy on board Dr. Tolian Soran's modified Xindi sphere. The massive vessel's primary power source was located at the center of the device, but they had chosen to appear on a walkway near the outer edge of the device's equator. Motioning for Lt. Commander Adam Nelson to fall back, Hernandez waved the rest of them forward and they sprinted quickly along the horizontal walkway, two by two, in the general direction of the central core. They encountered one of the tall, mysterious Krell warriors along the way. He promptly surrendered after Andrews fired several brightly lit golden warning bursts in front of him.

"Maxwell, Hawkins… _watch_ him," snapped Hernandez briskly toward a pair of her guards. Both of them nodded crisply in acknowledgement. The Captain paused for a moment to take a prolonged glance over the metallic safety railing, noticing that any fall toward the sphere's distant bottom would be a long and deadly one. Then she glanced back at the men assigned to take charge of their prisoner. "There's a maintenance room nearby, just to the left of the intersection behind us," she informed them. "Take our guest there and detain him. Be ready… _more_ will be coming."

"Aye Captain." Crewman Maxwell took a cautious step back and waved the Krell forward, making certain to keep a safe distance between himself and the dangerous alien. He pulled the hand phaser free from his belt and slung his rifle across his left shoulder, and then he and his colleague began to escort the captured alien in the general direction Hernandez had pointed out to them.

"There are six more ahead of us," noted Andrews as he studied a small, pad-like tricorder. "These guys _barely_ show up on my scanner and it's almost impossible to pinpoint specific locations… there are no normal life signs to speak of."

"That's why Soran chose them for this mission," Hernandez pointed out. "They can't be assimilated by those Borg aliens, and their biology is ideally suited for stealth missions."

They continued moving until Andrews brought them to a complete stop. "Ready up ahead!" he shouted suddenly. A Krell warrior appeared unexpectedly from below and swung himself powerfully over the railing, catching one of the security officers totally off guard. The seven foot dark silhouette reached out with a long, spindly arm and grabbed the crewman firmly by the throat. "_Ulkh_…" growled Hernandez's security guard in a breathless, choking rasp. He kicked out with one leg and caught the enemy alien sharply in the abdomen, then grunted with satisfaction as the chokehold around his throat released suddenly and he felt his feet hit the metallic floor plating. Pivoting on one foot, he grabbed the creature's extended arm and neatly flipped him over his shoulder.

"They _weigh_ almost nothing!" the broad-shouldered crewman noted with a startled chuckle. "They're strong as hell, but there's not much to them."

The Captain chose to remain vigilant, immediately assigning another pair of guards to take charge of their second captured alien. She ordered him moved to their designated holding facility before smiling reassuringly at Joshua Andrews, the man who had once served as her chief tactical officer on board the _Columbia_. But that had been long ago, during the time before their starship completed its final voyage by crashing on a lonely, uninhabited planet in the Gamma Quadrant. "You wanted action… are you happy now Joshua?" she asked him.

"Absolutely," he replied instantly. "This time we're fighting an enemy we can physically confront and defeat. There's no alien conspiracy, far, far away in a distant sector, holding secret meetings behind closed doors as they plot to annihilate us… no bodiless entities seizing control of our vessel and issuing flaky orders. _This_ is what we trained for."

"Easy Lieutenant," said Hernandez with an amused smirk. "Keep your cool."

Even as he spoke, Andrews stopped for a moment and looked past the guard rail toward the curving, metallic Xindi technology stretching outward in all directions surrounding them. Even with all of the visible metal, it was blatantly obvious that a vast majority of the weapon's interior was essentially hollow. As they resumed their steady course toward the sphere's center, they began to encounter more and more fully powered, key systems. "Jonathan Archer and his crew once fought Xindi _reptilians_ on this thing?" scoffed the Lieutenant with sincere wonder. "It's a genuine _miracle_ any of them survived."

"Stay together and keep each other covered," Hernandez replied, leaving his comment alone. "Even the slightest mistake in this environment can cost you your life. Remember, there are still five of them left."

They continued easing forward gradually, making certain that areas ahead of them were clear. Wakefield lingered slightly behind the main group with Chief Engineer Nelson, keeping a careful watch on the walkway behind them. She was fully prepared if anyone chose to approach them unexpectedly from that direction. After the most recent encounter, she was also keeping a cautious eye on the guard rails… their previous encounter had revealed the Krell to be fully capable of hanging beneath them and springing a trap as they detected people passing above.

Hernandez retrieved a small, pencil-thin tricorder from her belt and activated the device. Green and yellow lights along its length began flashing actively in response, and she palmed the device so that she could use her fingertips to activate her Comm-badge.

"Hernandez to _Relativity_," she stated softly, opening a channel to the Timeship lurking nearby. "Our internal dampening field is now fully active… even if their shields come back on-line this super weapon is currently incapable of firing at you."

"_Acknowledged. Here's hoping the rest of your mission goes as well_." Ingram's electronically amplified voice sounded somewhat odd amidst the irregular humming of the surrounding equipment. The closer they moved toward the central power system, the louder the thrumming sounds became.

They captured two more Krell on the way in. When they finally came into view of the central power source, only three additional life signs remained unaccounted for. Waving first to the right and then to the left, Erika silently motioned for her people to surround the main command chamber at the central core of the vessel. To their astonishment, the Krell on duty there didn't even have hand weapons available to them. The three remaining members of the crew complement aboard the Xindi sphere surrendered to them without another shot fired.

"It makes sense," decided Andrews with a relieved sigh. "Weapons fire in this part of the sphere would be risky at any time. With the Omega molecule chain here, it's more dangerous than ever."

Hernandez heard him and nodded slightly in agreement before turning to face him. "Joshua, you and Lt. Wakefield select three additional crewmen and escort the rest of the Krell back to our makeshift detention facility," she ordered sharply. "And remember, all of you are authorized to use lethal force if they offer _any_ resistance. Our mission here is a matter of the utmost importance."

"Don't worry," nodded Andrews reassuringly. "We've got them."

Erika smiled dryly, knowing from experience that the Lieutenant's word was as good as gold. "It looks like it's your turn, Mr. Nelson," she continued, turning to directly address the Chief Engineer standing behind him.

"I guess so," the cheerful young _Relativity_ officer replied, lifting his tool kit off of the walkway and walking farther inside the core. "Let's see how fast I can remove the fangs from this beast."

* * *

Alpha Quadrant, March 2, 2154, Aboard the Borg Queen's ship

* * *

"_Dr. Kalita Rama, your Collective in this galaxy has been irrevocably shattered. If you wish to preserve a detailed, accurate record of your home world's culture and the history that led to the creation of the Borg, there is still time to do so. All you have to do is take my hand_."

The shock of hearing her own name caused the Queen to hesitate, distracting her away from Soran. Intrigued, she redirected her attention toward the sudden presence of the enigmatic newcomer. The name 'Kalita Rama' was distantly familiar to her, but she had not heard it spoken for so long that it took her a moment to personally access the information needed to place that name in its proper context. Most of her brain was now technology, after all, and memories from the time that she had spent so long ago as a fragile, independent biological life form were archived elsewhere. Quite obviously that kind of data was prioritized at a significantly lower level than the constant, non-stop flow of telemetry required by a fully active Borg Queen.

"_Who_ are you?" she asked curiously, studying this newest isomorphic projection of a gold-skinned, yellow-eyed humanoid. "What species are you?" Her back was pressed up against the dead-ended wall behind her, and as she spoke the words Soran stepped out into the corridor intersection in full view and turned malevolently to face them. The Queen's gaze shifted first to the Doctor and then back to the man he had called 'Data'. _He had screamed that name at the top of his lungs, to be precise_. Sharp pangs of fear still pierced the small frame of her upper body, but even without the presence of her Collective to provide support she could already sense that matters had changed significantly in the space of a few seconds. The strange newcomer did not appear to be hostile – in fact he had extended his right hand toward her in an obvious gesture of friendship. Soran attempted to step closer, but his movement was instantly deflected backwards by the instantaneous appearance of a shimmering green force field.

"_My name is Data, and I used to be a sentient android existing outside of subspace just like you and Soran_," said the newcomer flatly, with no trace of emotion in his tone of voice. "_During my travels, I discovered a place where beings of higher intelligence and evolution eventually end up moving to, a Collective of life and technology similar to your own that is blended deep within the folds of subspace_." He continued to offer her his hand, but the Queen effectively ignored it for the moment.

She studied his expression for a moment longer and then scoffed openly at him. "You just show up here, out of nowhere, and introduce yourself as though you were an old friend. Surely you don't actually expect _that_ approach to work?"

Across from them, a furious Soran held up his arms and fired beams of bright red energy from the tips of his isomorphic fingers. The shrieking energy struck the force shield barrier that Data had put in place and its shimmering, emerald energy rippled with sudden distortion. There was an immediate flood of backwash from the impact, enveloping the Doctor's image in angry red fire. In preparation for such a contingency, he had disabled the sensory subroutines within his RI-CAD and therefore felt no pain. In fact, he escalated his attack only seconds later, firing additional energy beams into the shield in an attempt to break through and reach his waiting, seemingly helpless prey. Below him the floor melted away and revealed the next deck far below, but his image simply hovered in place. The walls leading up to Data's force shield also disintegrated from the ferocity of his attack, and additional smoldering debris fell from the ceiling. "_Data!_" the Doctor snarled with uncontained hatred. "_Get _AWAY _from _MY_ prize!_"

Casting a brief glance over his shoulder at the destruction unfolding behind him, Data returned his full attention toward the Queen and smiled. "You do have one remaining alternative," he informed her casually. "You can refuse my offer, in which case I will leave and take my force shield with me. In that event, Soran will destroy both you and all of your memories. As the remainder of your Collective continues to unravel, _all_ information related to species 0001 and its subsequent history as the key link in the evolution of the Borg will be lost forever."

The Queen was still noticeably unsettled, but the sight of Soran's inability to penetrate Data's defenses reassured her somewhat – enough to temporarily maintain her composure. "You speak of another Collective," she continued, studying him meticulously with both humanoid and cybernetic eyesight. "How is it that the Borg have never heard of it?"

"_My history, and that of the realm I come from is a rather lengthy one_," responded Data curtly. "_It would be much easier for me to simply show you. If you still prefer non-existence over survival once you have seen it, we will understand. But I predict that you will instead decide to adapt to our environment and preserve at least some of your long history_." The fingertips of his right hand curled back slightly. "_Please… I implore you, take my hand before it is too late_."

Unconvinced, the Borg Queen sneered at him. "_Who_ runs this Collective you represent?"

He shrugged his shoulders in response. "_We all do… all of its members share equal responsibilities and follow similar protocols. It is an area of subspace where intelligent beings study and learn as the galaxies around us continue to evolve_."

The scarlet fire from Soran's fingertips continued to increase to the point where even the walls, ceiling and floor beneath her were disintegrating away. Both she and Data remained standing safely, however – ironically on the bottom plane of a perfectly formed, cube-shaped force shield. Each time the Doctor's newest energy attacks struck Data's protective shield, the barrier would flare up with equivalent emerald-hued energy and repel his attacks. Although her situation remained dire, the Queen maintained her stubborn attitude. "Your Collective does not sound like anything _I_ would care for," she told him arrogantly. "Do you _really_ expect _me_ to adapt and service _you?_"

A small, android smirk flickered across his expression for just an instant. "_I suppose I could tell you that 'resistance is futile'_," he quipped in reply. "_But that would not be entirely accurate. You are free to die at Soran's hands if you would like_." He began to withdraw his hand. "_I admit to a great deal of disappointment_," stated Data flatly. "_Without your Collective to rely upon, I would have expected you to choose life and accept my offer_."

She could not be exactly certain just what kind of impulse, biological or electronic, suddenly struck her. All the Queen remembered later was that she took one last look at the hellfire Soran had created around Data's protective force shield, and then she lunged forward and grabbed his hand before he could completely retract it. As soon as the skin of her fingertips touched his, a bright white light exploded outward from the point of contact and began to expand rapidly. It easily overpowered the red and green energy still burning and coruscating in bright flashes of light around them.

_Seconds later, the flaming energy died at Soran's fingertips as he simply stood there in complete silence and astonishment while watching the two people in front of him vanish in a brilliant flare of the purest white light he had ever seen_.

From his perspective, Soran had not realistically expected to win a battle against Data where Preserver network resources were involved. Even though his own biological mind was greatly enhanced by the electronic headset he wore, Data's positronic brain was ideally suited for linking in with and coordinating the most efficient use of the hidden subspace resources. Further, the android's already impressive advantage had increased exponentially once he decided to become a permanent resident in subspace. Even so, rational thinking was a much smaller part of Soran's mindset now, buried somewhere beneath all of the hatred and loathing that had burned its way to the forefront of his thoughts. He had been so close to fulfilling his vow of revenge against the Borg – even though this was admittedly a different Collective. Now even that small victory had been taken from him, and he stared blankly at the smoldering remnants of the intersection around him with unmatched rage.

Before he could decide on his next move, a loud humming sound exploded through his brain. The unexpected feedback overrode the headset safeties and caused Soran to wince in response to what could only be a major malfunction. The electronic 'noise' grew steadily worse and gradually transitioned into a much louder, annoying buzzing sound that caused the Doctor to cry out in pain. His view of the interior of the Borg vessel grew suddenly hazy and Soran's temper flared anew. Snarling spitefully, he terminated the isomorphic projection with the full intention of tracking down Data wherever he might be and putting an end to him once and for all… _even if he had to destroy the entire Preserver network_.

The Doctor's vision cleared as quickly as it had clouded, and he found his thoughts back in his own body still seated on the bridge of the _Thraex_. Ishiik and four of his Krell companions were standing silently across from him, all completely idle. They were grouped together and their strange positioning instantly set off a warning flag in his mind. "_What_ is going on?" demanded Soran fiercely as he noticed bright bits of smoke and flame drifting in front of his eyes. No matter how hard he tried mentally to reset the headset's command interface, the unit failed to respond and pain continued to flood his brain.

He reached up with a steady right hand to adjust the RI-CAD headset and unexpectedly burned himself as soon as he touched its smooth, curving metal surface. He shrieked and pulled his hand back but the sensation of burning persisted, this time on his forehead. It took only seconds before Soran could no longer stand the pain. He reached up and tore the device from his head, losing his hold on it as the headset burned the fingertips of both hands this time. The fragile metal device landed clumsily on the floor with a loud clang, rolling across the deck floor with smoke trailing from an ash-black burn in its center. Ishiik continued to remain silent and simply pointed toward the area directly behind the Doctor.

Spinning around, Soran's jaw dropped in shock and disbelief as he saw a large group of Starfleet officers holding weapons on his bridge crew. Captain Thomas Ducane was standing in the midst of them, and his phaser rifle was still held at the ready only seconds after firing the burst that had effectively damaged the RI-CAD device. "Welcome back Dr. Soran," said Ducane with a satisfied smirk. "The third time is the charm for us, it would seem. Your crew has been captured, your mission terminated, and this vessel is now fully under Starfleet control." He winked at his nemesis with a great deal of satisfaction. "No matter how you slice things, we've _gotcha!_"

The rage boiling within Soran's mind turned suddenly white-hot. Running completely on rabid instinct and an unrestrained adrenaline surge, he dove for the still-smoking, damaged RI-CAD headset. It was his only hope of regaining control of a situation that had rapidly spiraled out of control. Ducane was ready for the move and had reset his phaser. Several stun pulses pounded into Soran's back and he fell to his knees. Struggling to reach his electronic prize, he reached out fruitlessly once more before succumbing to the sizzling force of the phaser attack.

_Then his mind finally gave out and he collapsed in an unconscious heap on the metallic deck plating.

* * *

_

_**Author's Notes:** Please understand... this chapter is not even CLOSE to the end! If you haven't realized it yet, this is also NOT your average "Star Trek" story. There is plenty more to tell, including a mind-shattering follow-up to the shocking revelation already unveiled earlier in "Treachery, Faith & The Great River". I always begin with a possible end in mind, and major plot objectives fully laid out. The ending of each tale, though, I leave somewhat gray. Everything always seems to solidify once the story is well underway, and (thankfully) this outing has proved to be no different. Once again, I have high hopes of coming up with what I hope will be a shocking, astonishing conclusion as good as Spock's unexpected appearance at the end of "Star Trek: Absolution". I foresee at least 3-6 Chapters remaining... it's tough to be completely certain at this point because this story has so much going on that I have had to write more slowly than usual. Real life has intervened a bit, too. I appreciate the loyalty and continued support from so many readers and want to say a big **THANK YOU** to ALL of you. Although Chapters are emerging a bit more slowly than usual, I am hoping that the full story (once completed) will be worth the wait.

* * *

_

_Until next time,_

_SoT  
_


	20. The Dogs Of War

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**The Dogs Of War

* * *

**

_Enterprise_ NCC-1701, Tholian Space, Alpha Quadrant

* * *

Over the years there had been a great deal of scuttlebutt throughout Starfleet's cadet population that the bold and infamous James T. Kirk never felt fear. Those rumors, as is usually the case, were in truth far from accurate. Although the brash young starship Captain had grown very skilled at controlling his fear through years and years of practice and by maintaining a focused strength of will that rivaled most, he did indeed feel stronger emotions just like any other humanoid. Currently he sat tensely in the central command seat on the turbulent bridge of the _Enterprise_, gripping the armrests of his chair so tightly with both hands that his fingers had turned white. The fleeing Federation starship had been taking enemy fire for nearly half an hour now, but it pushed forward nevertheless and continued its high speed flight path back in the direction of friendly territory.

More and more enemy Tholian ships were closing in on them with each passing second, attacking in packs of three or more to increase the effectiveness of their weapons fire. Just when everything seemed to be settling down, several additional Tholian plasma bolts would strike the port or starboard side of the saucer. Once they did, violent shock waves subsequently caused the vessel to tilt sharply in response, repeatedly throwing both people and objects first one way and then the other. Thankfully, the massive energy expended in these types of attacks had so far failed to disrupt the vessel's warp field. There was no way to predict just how long the deflector shields would hold, and yet time and time again the sturdy _Enterprise_ plunged relentlessly through the clusters of enemy targets and continued on its flight path toward the border.

_The urge to panic was often overwhelming, but few who served in Starfleet ever gave in to it_.

Curiously, Kirk noted with a quick glance to his left that Leonard McCoy had drifted away at some point. The Captain had expected no less, despite the Doctor's earlier bluster. As soon as the first reports of major injuries were received on Uhura's panel, McCoy's loyalty to the injured had trumped his natural curiosity and recalled him to full duty at his post in Sickbay. The Captain noted with a sly smirk that the Doctor had stationed a pair of medics wearing Starfleet blue next to the security officers standing in front of the turbolift. Both of them had large trauma kits sitting on the deck plating in front of them, which hopefully would not be needed. Even in his absence, though, McCoy was looking out for the bridge crew.

"Deflector shields continue to hold sufficiently," announced Spock almost triumphantly, his eyes and forehead surrounded by the soft blue glow from the primary sensor reader. "Eventually they will weaken if we continue to take multiple hits while maintaining a high warp factor. For now, however, power levels for all key systems remain satisfactory."

On the main viewscreen, several blazing orange pulses of plasma energy flared to life and moved rapidly toward them. Hikaru Sulu kept his cool, consistently shifting the large starship's course by just a fraction of a degree and easing them safely past a majority of the incoming weapons fire. The bolts that did strike them rumbled ominously through the hull, audible despite the steadily increasing moan from the starship's warp drive. "If only we had been able to successfully contact the _Hood_ or the _Potemkin_ before we were captured," the Lieutenant mused wistfully. "They're probably still patrolling back near the Agni sector where we first entered Tholian space."

"Don't underestimate them," smiled Kirk with his usual, outwardly calm demeanor. "We were supposed to check in with them every six hours. That dampening field and other Tholian jamming systems may have prevented us from broadcasting our location, but I doubt they've been sitting idle." He released his white-knuckled grip on the right armrest of his chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "By now… my bet is that they've crossed the border and initiated a search for us. Wherever they are, you can bet they're causing trouble."

The bridge around them shuddered again from repeated plasma bolt impacts and gradually steadied as the _Enterprise_ deflector shielding successfully dispersed the bulk of the incoming energy. In between hits, Sulu targeted enemy ships and retaliated with carefully controlled bursts of phaser fire.

"You may be correct Captain," agreed Spock in a bland, controlled tone of voice that would have been just as appropriate on a pleasure cruise. "Long range sensors are picking up a series of encrypted Starfleet transmissions coming from the general direction of Sector 102, less than a parsec away from the Agni white dwarf…" He trailed off as his eyebrow soared in surprise before turning thoughtfully to face Kirk. "Sensors are detecting at least _six_ different transmission sources."

"_Six?_" Kirk chuckled lightly, but it was clear to the people surrounding him that he too was puzzled by the news. "What the devil have they been _doing_ back there?" he wondered curiously. Abruptly, inspiration struck him. "Uhura, are the Tholians still jamming us?"

"Affirmative," the Communications Officer reported almost instantly. "And Captain, I've analyzed the data Mr. Spock reported on. Whatever those signals are in Sector 102, they're _not_ inter-ship transmissions. The few bits and pieces I've been able to successfully recover through the Tholian jamming field appear to be fragments of a musical piece of some sort."

He almost fell out of his seat. "_Music?_" Kirk repeated, unable to completely mask his surprise.

Spock nodded, studying the newest, incoming telemetry. "Confirmed," he stated, agreeing with Uhura's assessment. "I believe it's an older genre that used to be known on your world as 'heavy metal'."

From his position at the navigation post, Pavel Chekov snickered. "Clearly a diversion," he theorized. "A clever strategy using a style of music first composed in Russia."

"Indeed." Spock straightened up from his scanning just long enough to glance warily toward the still smirking Ensign. "However, that type of strategy is not something I would expect from a man like Captain William Dougherty. His choice of diversionary tactics, however, appears to be succeeding very nicely. The transmissions are attracting a great deal of attention from the enemy Tholian ships… at least two dozen have been rerouted away from us."

"That means there's still at least five dozen out there!" countered Sulu. "If our reinforcements are in Sector 102, they'll never get here in time to help us." He sighed with mild disappointment. "That dampening field really cost us… we had no way to send a distress signal."

Shrugging his shoulders, Kirk reacted indifferently to the helmsman's comment. "We don't _need_ an escort to get out of here," he declared adamantly. "As long as our engines hold, even at warp nine we can plow our way through the entire Tholian fleet." He punched the Comm-channel on the arm of his chair. "Mr. Scott, I trust our engines are still operating at peak performance?"

"_That they are Captain_," the engineer replied cheerfully from his position deep within the starship's secondary hull. "_If y' give me a few more minutes to adjust the intermix properly, I'll let Sulu take her up to warp nine point four_."

Frowning, Kirk shook his head. "Negative. Nine point two will do for the moment. Divert any additional engine output to supplement our shields. It's looking more and more as though additional support from other starships is unlikely, so I'm counting on the deflectors lasting long enough for us to get back to Federation space."

"_Aye, sir_."

Spock temporarily shut down the sensor controls and removed the communications receiver from his left ear. He casually crossed the bridge and came to a halt at his traditional post next to the Captain's chair. "The Tholians have obviously made up their minds that they are not going to let us go," he reported somewhat tersely. "There are at least a dozen vessels flanking us to port and another dozen to starboard, along with thirty additional ships that have gathered ahead of us. They have begun to form a gradually collapsing sphere around us, and have enough vessels left over to approach us in small groups and engage. Any hit causing significant damage would be enough to knock us out of warp."

"What if we unexpectedly choose to dodge toward port or starboard?" Kirk suggested after briefly pondering the matter. "If we cut through one of those groups stalking us, we can choose a longer, less patrolled route back toward home. Anything we outrun we don't have to fight."

Folding his hands together in front of him, the Vulcan shook his head. "In that event, the vessels pursuing us from their previous location in orbit of the planetoid would have the opportunity to catch up to us. Most of them are no doubt looking for revenge."

Sighing heavily, the Captain shook his head. "In other words, vessels that we damaged back at their facility have gone out of their way to continue pursuing us?"

"Affirmative." Spock handed him a printed report showing enemy numbers and the estimated damage on each of them. "The Tholian Assembly is determined _not_ to let us reach friendly territory."

The whine of the phaser banks sounded once more as they built up their latest charge and then fired. "Sadly, I think we've pulled our punches long enough," Kirk decided reluctantly, glancing toward the two men seated in front of him. "Chekov, begin conserving torpedoes and fire salvos only to disperse groups of Tholian ships attacking us in formation. Mr. Sulu can continue to pinpoint specific ships and hit them with phasers." He paused just long enough to silently review all available options one last time. "No more shooting to disable," he stated authoritatively. "From this point forward, _destroy_ the ships you target… otherwise their Captains will continue to patch their wounds and come after us again."

A chorus of tense '_Aye, sir_s' echoed back at him in response. Clearly, Chekov and Sulu hated hearing that type of order as much as Kirk hated having to issue it. "The Tholians have left us little choice," noted Spock upon reading the Captain's increasingly strained expression. The emotions were well controlled, but the Vulcan knew his Captain. "Telemetry clearly indicates that many of the damaged ships have continued to rearm and rejoin the task force pursuing us. We have a sworn obligation to get the civilians on board this vessel safely out of enemy territory."

"I know," countered Kirk rather bitterly. "However, please forgive me if I find this entire situation somewhat… _regrettable_."

Spock nodded slowly. "It is indeed regrettable," he agreed tersely. "The Tholians initiated this conflict by repeatedly crossing into our space and abducting innocent civilians. Now that we have successfully outwitted them, they are determined to prevent us from escaping alive. For a seemingly intelligent, space-faring species they have demonstrated considerable arrogance along with a considerable lack of compassion." He too appeared a bit taken aback by the sheer aggressiveness of their enemy's behavior. "Logically, wounded ships should have stayed out of the fight."

"Logic doesn't generally resonate very deeply with ego-driven individuals," Kirk replied. "The Tholian commanders presented us with a win-lose situation and patted themselves on the back for their ingenuity. Once we managed to turn the tables on them, well… it isn't hard to determine that pure, unbridled resentment began driving their behavior."

"It is also driving their decision making process," pointed out Spock as he crossed the bridge and returned to the main sensor station. "That is something we can take advantage of."

Sulu's eyes drifted away from the streaming star shine on the viewscreen, dropping briefly to his instrument panel and the phaser control tower that was locked in place above it. "We're going to have to drop out of warp once in a while," he stated brusquely, glancing back toward the Captain. "A straight line course will take us through the heart of the fleet ahead of us, which has organized itself into larger groups capable of coordinating and concentrating their fire. At sub-light speed I can change course more quickly and with less stress on the hull. The evasive maneuvering will allow me to be unpredictable, and the enemy vessels will have to regroup each time I alter our flight path and return to warp."

"If possible, they'll try to re-establish a web shield around us," Kirk predicted. He smiled coolly at the determined helmsman. "Do what you need to do to get this ship out of enemy territory…" he trailed off for just a moment as he remembered previous, similar encounters and his helmsman's notorious reputation. "Keep in mind that this is a starship and _not_ a fighter."

"Aye, sir." Sulu's own wry smile of approval was good to see. He and Chekov exchanged confident glances. "Pavel, can you begin displaying hull stress tolerances on one of your screens? If I can watch them as we move, it will be easier to make course corrections on the fly."

"Acknowledged. Stand by for updated telemetry," replied the Ensign curtly. The two of them worked briskly in unison as additional enemy plasma bolts flashed past them on the forward viewscreen.

"Dropping to sub-light velocity… _now_…" snapped Sulu. The viewscreen's stars abruptly slowed to a crawl and the _Enterprise _banked sharply to starboard. As soon as Chekov spotted a group of five enemy Tholian ships he fired a pair of torpedoes, effectively scattering them. Seconds later he launched another pair of photons at a second group of Tholian ships.

"They were getting used to shooting at an approaching target," mused Chekov with a chuckle. "They were expecting us to fly past them at warp nine instead of slowing long enough to shoot back."

Sulu nodded firmly, accelerating the large starship to half impulse. Three of the enemy targets had swiftly righted themselves and were now taking advantage of the _Enterprise_'s slower velocity. All of them moved closer and closer toward the saucer, firing their weapons repeatedly as they tried to break the Federation vessel's deflector shields. Unfortunately for the enemy, reacting predictably was not usually in Sulu's arsenal of preferred countermeasures. Rather than taking evasive action he chose instead to plow steadily forward, just as he had back at the planetoid.

Two of the Tholian vessels collided heavily with the forward edge of the saucer, collapsing its hull with a resounding crunch and opening the outer sections on three decks to open space. Both of the smaller, wedge-shaped ships spun away, out of control, as the crews on board each struggled to maintain anti-matter containment within their engine systems. The _Enterprise_ continued moving steadily forward, her course unabated. Within the damaged framework of her superstructure, emergency bulkheads had been put in place to protect the rest of the vessel's interior from the sudden explosive decompression.

"Number two and three shields are failing," pointed out Spock in warning. "They took a direct hit on that attack run and will need time to recharge."

"Acknowledged," replied Sulu as he fired phasers and impaled the remaining Tholian vessel with twin beams of blazing blue energy. "Stand by everybody… we'll be shooting at one more group and then I'm re-engaging warp."

"I really wish you'd go a little easier on the saucer," noted Kirk sourly.

"Damage control parties report that all exterior cabins have long since been cleared," countered Spock. "The team leaders will let us know if the integrity of our emergency bulkheads is in any way compromised. Damage to areas where we have collided with other vessels is minor compared to what we might otherwise have sustained had we taken weapons fire at point blank range."

"Uhura, have you been able to contact anyone?"

"Negative," she replied. "I've been transmitting distress signals on all Starfleet frequencies. Anything that penetrates the Tholian jamming network will more than likely be distorted." The Lieutenant frowned noticeably. "They've got too many ships out there, and a _very_ efficient network in place." Inspiration suddenly struck her. "Captain, if we can't transmit or receive anyway…" she trailed off, allowing him to follow her train of thought.

"…then why don't we implement our _own_ jamming network." Kirk nodded with obvious approval. "If we can't talk to _our _friends, then there's no reason the Tholians should be able to communicate either."

"I should point out," added Spock, "that such additional counter measures on our part will only serve to paint an even larger electronic signature around the _Enterprise_." As he spoke, the ship's phaser banks fired once again. A bright, glowing explosion lit up the forward viewscreen as one of the enemy ships exploded in a colorful light show of rapidly expanding, radiant energy.

"The Tholians already appear to know where we are," countered Kirk with an amused smirk. "I don't think we'll be fooling them any time soon." He shifted his intense focus to Uhura. "Do it."

Choosing a new angle toward home, Sulu punched in the necessary coordinates from a list of ideal possibilities provided to him earlier by Chekov. Then he launched the _Enterprise_ back into warp.

* * *

Beta Quadrant, March 3, 2154, Aboard the mirror _Relativity

* * *

_

A century in the past and thousands of light years distant from the ongoing, ambitious NCC-1701 confrontation with the Tholians, a much older James Tiberius Kirk was seated in a guest cabin on board the duplicate _Relativity_. Since Data had chosen to share much of the history from their home universe with the Starfleet crew from this alternate reailty, Kirk had been unable to contain his own curiosity about this particular Federation.

From his point of view, the newly established historical timeline was only hours old. Even so, for most of the regular crewmen and women living aboard her, the mirror Timeship had been their home for years. For several hours now, Captain Data and Commander Ducane had been busy working with Frank Roberts in an attempt to isolate the strange signals that had been interacting with the Borg communications matrix. Until they found something noteworthy, there was really very little else for him to do except satisfy his own inquisitive nature. He had grown extremely interested about this new Starfleet that was virtually indistinguishable from his own.

_Except that there were indeed differences._

Subtle ones, mostly, that were often little more than footnotes in a lengthy history that closely matched the universe he originated from. But there _were_ things that were different, and the farther into the future he looked the more variations he discovered. Not only did the dissimilarities continually grow in number, but the degree to which events transpired differently eventually branched off in completely unpredictable directions. Kirk estimated that the 31st century contacts who regularly kept in touch with _this_ Data and with _this_ Ducane were probably people with opinions and policies very different from those who lived in his version of Starfleet's future. And yet, strangely enough, this place had so far seemed to be very natural for him… a comfortable fit.

_It was so similar to his own home that he hadn't even noticed the transition._

Kirk's thoughts drifted briefly back to distant memories of another, awful Starfleet Empire that existed in another of the seemingly endless alternate realities. Inadvertently, he and members from his crew had visited it early in his career. _How could humanity anywhere have gotten THAT screwed up?_ he wondered idly, studying data records on a small display screen in front of him. _All it would take would be for the wrong side to win a global war just once_, he finally decided after giving the matter some additional thought. _Once a dictatorship was in place, it had always proven to be an extremely difficult task to convince the bad guys to lay down their arms and give up their superior lifestyles_.

He leaned back in the comfortable recliner, crossing his arms behind his head, and silently noted how many things in this current reality were virtually identical, and yet just slightly different, from his own universe's history. And even though there were regular, recurring minor discrepancies, this particular Starfleet had managed to course correct over the years and closely mirror his own past and future at every key point in its history. Regardless of what they had faced over the centuries, this Starfleet's officers had repeatedly exercised good judgment, acted honorably, and managed to hold together a free spirited United Federation of Planets. And here too, humanity had proven to be unique. Starfleet alone had created something seemingly impossible to duplicate anywhere else in the galaxy… a free society of planetary star systems spanning countless light years.

Unexpectedly, the door chime sounded. Kirk straightened up in his chair and swiftly cleared his thoughts. "Come on in," he called out, using a tone of voice just loud enough to be audible on the other side of the door. The rectangular doorway snapped open just long enough to admit an enthused Jean-Luc Picard. The two of them had worked very closely during their time serving together on the Preserver Council of the Elders. Evidence of the growing bond between them was easy to see – Picard carried with him a dark green bottle and immediately began opening the foil wrapped tightly around its cork.

"What have you been up to, my good Captain?" inquired Picard as he moved into the room's small kitchen and searched for a corkscrew and two glasses. "We haven't seen you in a while."

"There wasn't really a whole lot to do on Data's bridge," responded Kirk with a chuckle. "I got tired of standing up there waiting for the others to come up with something, so I decided to take a closer look at the historical timeline that our presence here created." He heard the clink of glasses and shook his head. "You know, we may not technically be in Starfleet these days, but we accepted this mission willingly. Drinking on duty is not exactly the best way to follow regulations."

"Even during the worst of times, there have always been circumstances that demand a celebration," retorted Picard mildly. "_Captain_ Ducane just sent us a message… they have successfully captured Dr. Soran and his entire team. All of them have been taken into custody and the _Relativity_ is on its way here to join us."

"Good. Given the circumstances, I definitely think that two _Relativity_'s are preferable to one," acknowledged Kirk dryly while continuing to eye Picard suspiciously. "In my day, we used to wait until a crisis had passed _entirely_ before throwing the party. Don't forget, someone in this century has been using the Preserver network to manipulate the Borg. And _nobody_ here is supposed to know about the existence of those subspace resources… at least not yet."

"My friend, allow me to introduce you to an innovation from _my_ century," Picard countered smoothly, plucking a length of cork from the bottle he carried with a loud pop. "It's called synthehol… a substance that tastes like alcohol, hits you like alcohol, but whose effects can be easily and quickly shaken off." He poured two glasses half full and then swirled the amber liquid in each before handing one to Kirk. "Tell me, have you found anything interesting during your research?"

"To say the least," nodded Kirk, taking a drink from the glass. He shifted the liquid around in his mouth for a moment, testing its taste on his tongue, before finally swallowing it.

"Well?" asked a seriously interested Picard.

"I wish the _aftertaste_ was as easy to shake off," he decided with a loud harrumph. "Seriously, I'm primarily a beer lover and you can't keep your hands off of wine. _That_, my friend, will never change."

"Probably not," admitted Picard with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He seated himself in an easy chair next to the small cabin's single bed, tilted the chair back into a reclining position and sipped at his own glass. "Nonetheless, I'm afraid that this is what we're stuck with so long as our services continue to be needed aboard this vessel." His eyes sparkled with an inquisitiveness of their own. "So what _have_ you discovered about this alternate Starfleet?"

There was a pause while Kirk contemplated his response carefully. "Scientists have theorized about alternate universes, other planes of existence, and different dimensions since well before we were alive," he began informally. "Over the years, Starfleet ships and crews have even encountered a few." The former Constitution-Class starship Captain stroked his chin thoughtfully. "_This_ universe is what I would have expected them to be like… it's almost an identical mirror of our own with only minute changes."

Picard set his glass down on a small, chestnut nightstand next to the bed. "But until we arrived, this particular reality was _far_ different from our own," he reminded Kirk. "Until Soran destroyed the Borg Collective here, the history of this galaxy was extremely dissimilar to our own. _Now_ it may closely match ours, but that is because Data has chosen to shape it so."

"The history was different because someone has been _meddling_," disagreed Kirk forcefully. "And we have yet to discover who the guilty party is." He took a deep breath and turned in his seat to face Picard. "Have you ever heard of the Vulcan concept of IDIC?" He pronounced the acronym as '_i-Dik_'.

"Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations?" Picard nodded affirmatively and picked up his glass, taking another sip from it and then added another splash of liquid from the nearby bottle. "I have indeed heard of it, probably from the same source as you… your former First Officer and his family."

"That's right," Kirk remembered with a firm nod. "You've actually _met_ Spock."

"Yes. And on another occasion, I also had the opportunity to mind meld with his father." Picard sighed, remembering the conflicting array of thoughts he had been exposed to during his mind meld with an elderly, ailing Ambassador Sarek. The chaotic after effects had lasted for several weeks, but over the years he had managed to filter a lot of useful data out of that single, prolonged meld. "IDIC, also known as '_Kol-Ut-Shan_' in its native syntax, forms the very basis of Vulcan philosophy. Their culture regularly celebrates and embraces the never ending variables that have created so _many_ different planets and the diverse number of life forms living on them."

"A few rogue Vulcans privately celebrate it less so than others," added Kirk with a smug smile. "But essentially you are correct. I spent most of my career working with Spock, and during all that time I've never known him to have anything except admiration for the astonishing size and intricate design of our universe. And then you and I were reborn and suddenly faced with this… _this_…" he waved a frustrated hand at the surrounding cabin walls and prompted Jean-Luc Picard to laugh in response.

"Suddenly your concept of a universe has gotten appreciably larger," decided Jean-Luc.

"_Infinitely _larger," nodded Kirk in quick affirmation. "Most in Starfleet have heard the story of my crew's encounter with an evil, alternate Empire. And yet these types of crossovers have traditionally been rare throughout history, so they become almost folk tales one would tell around a campfire." He pointed at the data on the screen in front of him. "Now, suddenly, we've found ourselves in a _third_ universe that is virtually identical to our own. As if that isn't mind blowing enough, Data stated in his summary log that he searched through countless others before finally settling on this particular reality as the best destination in which to trap Soran. So we're not dealing with _one_ alternate universe any longer, or even two or three of them for that matter."

"Millions of them… perhaps even billions."

Kirk nodded and shook his head with clear disbelief. "Like you, I read Data's summary of the Overseer's gateways, but until we actually arrived here the vast scope of all of this never really sunk in. What I've been studying amounts to countless other universes much like our own… a collection of realities that would more accurately be described as an _omniverse_." He appeared truly awed. "We have always tended to think of ourselves as a mere dot in the vastness of all we can see… how about now?"

"I suppose we are a much smaller dot, although it has become obvious that the actions of each one of us can still have a major impact… just _look_ at what Soran inadvertently created." Picard noticed that Kirk's glass was almost empty and passed him the bottle of synthetic wine. He eyed his 23rd century counterpart with sudden interest. "But for the moment we are here… in _this_ universe. So _where_, may I ask, did you begin your study of _this_ historical timeline… one that so closely matches ours and also spans centuries?"

Accepting the green bottle from Picard and pouring himself a refill, Kirk smiled and sipped at his drink before answering. "I decided to choose something relevant to our presence here. Data sent Benjamin Sisko and Kathryn Janeway to the NX-01 – to Captain Archer's ship," he began by way of reply. "He needed them to access an Iconian gateway hidden on the Tholian home world, so he chose a time and place where their Assembly was suitably distracted." He eyed Picard mischievously. "Curiously, my own ship was in the process of confronting the Tholians at the time and place he chose, so he was using the presence of my own _Enterprise_ in Tholian space as the foil to keep their attention focused elsewhere."

"I remember reading about that mission," Picard stated crisply. "As is usually the case with Starfleet military operations, it was successful in terms of objectives met but costly in terms of lives lost."

"Yes," nodded James Kirk softly, remembering. "As Captain, I lost _forty-one_ crewmen and women on that assignment, and dozens more were injured to one degree or another. But we rescued over one hundred helpless civilians who would otherwise have been brutally murdered by the Tholians. _One_ Federation starship gave the Tholians a bloody lip that they didn't soon forget, and I firmly believe that our mission demonstrated to them once and for all Starfleet's determination to maintain peaceful but protected borders. It probably averted a future war with their Assembly."

"I would agree," Picard affirmed. "I believe your mission did make them think twice, and it's no doubt at least one of the reasons why they eventually accepted Federation efforts to improve peaceful commerce and trade within their borders."

Kirk flipped a thumb toward the data reader he had been using to access the mirror _Relativity_'s historical database. "_Here_, in _this_ universe, the _Enterprise_ only lost _two_ crewmen," he pointed out. "And I've also verified that the additional casualties were much lighter for them, although their ship suffered similar structural damage. _Why_ would that be?" he asked, using a tone of voice that sounded almost rhetorical in nature. "If there are indeed so _many_ similarities between our two realities, what kind of variables could there be in this universe that are different enough to spare additional people here and not back home?"

"I truly do not know," Picard responded curtly, his own thoughts alive with dozens of possibilities. "During my travels aboard the _Enterprise-D_, I have encountered all kinds of strange and unusual things. Some of the mysteries my crew and I were able to resolve quickly, while many others remain unanswered to this day. Temporal anomalies, strange holes in space, we've both seen a little bit of everything over the years. That's just the nature of exploration in an environment as vast as outer space, I would imagine, especially when we're also constantly striving to push the envelope of discovery all the way to the very edge of creation itself."

"This is the _first_ time I've regretted signing up with the Preservers," Kirk told his friend truthfully. "Spock and I used to have quite a few discussions regarding the 'infinite diversity' of our universe. I would _love_ to tell him about this… to let him see the data we've been gathering here in this realm and gauge his reaction." Memories flooded through his mind and he laughed lightly. "Dr. McCoy would also offer an opinion or two… it's really too bad that you never got to meet _him_."

"Oh but I did," replied an amused Picard, enjoying Kirk's startled reaction. "_Admiral_ McCoy was on board the _Enterprise-D_ during my first assignment, coming aboard just long enough to see us off and wish everyone a safe journey."

"Admiral," Kirk repeated slowly. "That 'old, country doctor' of mine was always advising me to avoid jumping up to top brass too quickly, and then he goes and accepts an Admiralty of his own. There's _another_ fellow I would love to show up and surprise…"

"How about we stick to the matter at hand," suggested Picard. "Remember, the two of us made a conscious decision to leave the originals of ourselves alone and _not_ to tamper with time. I still believe that we did what was best. Having an opportunity to work with the Preservers has been quite an experience. The Sisko, Janeway and Archer holograms had to make that very same pledge in exchange for receiving Preserver authorization to convert them into biological life forms similar to us."

An electronic chime sounded from the ship's all-call. "_Would James Kirk and Jean-Luc Picard please report to the bridge immediately_," stated Commander Ducane's unseen, electronically enhanced voice.

"At last," said Picard with a heavy sigh. "They've found something."

Kirk tapped his communicator, opening a link. "We're on our way," he promised. He set his glass down on the desk in front of him and stood up quickly, taking a deep breath as he did so. A furious rush of dizziness temporarily clouded his thoughts and then faded as swiftly as it had arrived. "Effects easily shaken off…" he mused, repeating Picard's earlier words.

* * *

It took the two men only minutes to arrive on Captain Data's bridge. The command center aboard the duplicate Timeship appeared virtually identical to its counterpart on the vessel they had only recently vacated. Frank Roberts was seated along the upper, starboard walkway, where several Starfleet engineers were busy tinkering with the interior electronics on the right side of his head. The flesh-colored access panel had been opened, taking a section of the android's dark hair along with it. "They're adding enhancements to my neural link," Roberts informed the pair of newly-arrived, ex-Captains. "I expect that I will need to more efficiently access the subspace network in the near future and attempt to deploy its resources against our unknown opponent."

"Where are we?" asked a very inquisitive James Kirk, leaning over the port handrail so that he could get a better look at the main viewscreen below.

"We're in the Beta Quadrant, within Romulan space," responded Commander Ducane. He was standing next to Captain Data as the two of them supervised their engineers while they completed the work on Roberts' positronic link. "In this century, the Romulans aren't exactly the greatest of explorers."

Picard appeared unimpressed. "Why, may I ask, is _that_ relevant?"

"The lack of regular Romulan traffic makes many of its star systems ideal for coordinating a covert, galaxy wide project of this sort… the kind of large-scale undertaking we have been attempting to trace," noted Captain Data. For Picard, the reunion with an android whose appearance so closely matched his own Data was an uncomfortable one. The former _Enterprise-D_ Captain had finally reached a point where he had grown used to working with Frank Roberts, even managing to put the vast majority of his earlier life behind him. Seeing a Data again, even one wearing a 29th century uniform, brought back all kinds of memories of days that now seemed so long ago. _Like the Farpoint mission where all of us first met_, he thought silently to himself.

"Whoever has been manipulating the Borg command frequencies is hiding up ahead, in a remote star system completely lacking in usable natural resources. It is a system that the Romulans would normally tend to ignore," added Commander Ducane. "Properly concealed, I'd bet a months pay that someone could work here for years without ever encountering a single patrol ship." He too joined Kirk at the railing. "Lt. Ingram, please bring up a map of the Beta Kariadne system. Let's see how many planets and moons are in orbit of Kovar."

Hearing the name of the star system, the normally cool and collected James T. Kirk flinched noticeably. "_Kovar?_" he said excitedly, flashing Picard a concerned look that was instantly returned.

Ingram was busy working down below, and she brought up a computer map of the requested system. "The star is an older red giant orbited by several larger gaseous planets – similar to Jupiter. Other than that, there's not a lot of other information in our database." She glanced up toward them, flipping her blonde ponytail over her right shoulder as she did so. "However, this place is definitely the source of the strange, subspace transmissions that were interacting with Borg communications up until the man you identified as Tolian Soran dealt them his killing blow." Returning her focus to the console in front of her, she curled her lip while concentrating. "I'm not detecting anything coming out of there now… all previous activity has shut down. May I initiate a long range scan or should I continue to hold?"

"Hold please," stated Data instantly in response. "Whoever is hiding here has been making extensive use of Preserver subspace resources over a prolonged period of time. It would be somewhat of a surprise to me if they have neglected to erect some sort of a defensive perimeter. A long range scan, or any other electromagnetic emissions on our part, would only alert them to our presence." He turned to regard Kirk and Picard thoughtfully. "You men have heard of this place?"

Both Captains looked as though they had eaten something sour and neither of them declined to respond immediately to the question. One of the engineers who had been busy working on the enhancements to Frank Roberts' neural link nodded to the other and they closed the access panel on the side of his head, restoring his normal, human-looking appearance. "They are no doubt somewhat flabbergasted," the android noted informatively. "You see, in our universe, this star system is where the three of us originally met." He flashed the three Captains an amused android smirk. Unlike Kirk and Picard, he wasn't afraid to speak the name of their suspected foe. "We fought a renegade Preserver known as the Sentinel here, someone who had traveled back through time from a point more than five million years in our distant future."

"This system was used as a base to launch an attack on our _entire_ Milky Way," affirmed Picard. "It is likely that a similar attack is underway here."

"How can you be certain we are dealing with the _same_ individual?" Commander Ducane asked doubtfully. "This could be anyone…"

"Trust me… it's _him!_ The Sentinel had specifically chosen our galaxy as some sort of staging ground in preparation for upcoming Preserver operations." Picard shook his head with complete disgust. "Even if our two universes are admittedly almost identical, it makes sense that his methodology would change somewhat, especially across a span of five _million_ years." He shot Kirk a quick look filled with anxiety. "It's the natural result of a universe so filled with infinite diversity."

"According to your own data records, the Preservers are listed as a super-species," noted Captain Data. "In other words, we must tread very carefully when interacting with men like this."

"Oh, most assuredly," snapped Picard, his anxiety level climbing with each passing second. "And I can assure you, he's not simply 'a man'. Among the Sentinel's many alternatives for conquering our galaxy was an option to take over the Borg Collective and assist it in assimilating the populations living in all four quadrants. He initially rejected that alternative as too risky, as too easy for the Collective to detect, and – where we come from – settled for simply eradicating all sentient life everywhere it thrived. It would appear that _your_ version of this rather unpleasant individual has instead selected and decided to run with his Borg contingency."

Kirk's mind buzzed with the possibilities. "Keeping everyone alive as controllable drones definitely gives him more power to reshape entire star systems, at least in the short term. And we know from experience that the accumulation of planetary resources has always been one of his primary goals."

"Captain Data, I strongly suggest you bring this vessel to a complete stop and engage your cloaking system immediately," decided a very concerned Jean-Luc Picard. "The Sentinel will retain the capability to detect us, of course, but only if he knows in advance where to look."

The android whose image eerily matched that of his original ancestor nodded. "Please comply, Lt. Ingram," he stated decisively. "If we are indeed facing a Preserver on this mission, we will need to come up with a tactical strategy capable of defeating him."

"He is easy enough to beat if we can find a way to deny him access to the subspace resources," commented Roberts informatively. "The Preservers rely very heavily upon it in order to function. To stop him, we must utilize our surprise advantage here and strike before he can track down the cause of the Borg Collective's collapse." His own positronic mind leaped into action as he weighed thousands of potential contingencies. "Perhaps we can deploy a shuttle of Starfleet officers masquerading as civilians… crewmen who would claim they wandered into Romulan space by accident. That would be an occurrence that he would deem worthy of investigation but not threatening in the least…"

Kirk shook his head in firm disagreement. "Even the _Relativity_'s shuttles utilize a quantum singularity as the power source for their engines. Trust me, your shuttles would seem as out of place in this century as any of the other sophisticated 29th century technology on board this vessel."

"Then we need someone native to _this_ century who can fly in there for us and play dumb," countered Roberts crisply, already analyzing a completely different set of alternatives. A thought occurred to him and he smiled in a strikingly human-like simulation of emotion. "Our most recent telemetry update as supplied by Data indicated that the _Enterprise_ NX-01 has safely returned to the year 2158. I wonder… are Kathryn Janeway and Benjamin Sisko still aboard?"

Hearing Roberts' statement, Jean-Luc Picard groaned audibly. "Our Data has _already_ asked Jonathan Archer and his crew to jump through all kinds of hoops in order to resolve _our_ problems," he stated factually. "They journeyed all the way to the Tholian _home_ world, for crying out loud. I sincerely hope that you're not going to ask them to take those kinds of risks for us again."

"Why not?" asked Captain Data, daring to disagree with his ancestor's former Captain. "With the added presence of a Timeship, there is no longer a need for them to risk a slingshot maneuver around a suitable gravity well in order to move back through time. Instead, we can use the _Relativity_'s engines to open a suitable spacial rift and transfer them back through time and space directly to this location."

"The effort by the NX-01 crew was hardly in vain," added Roberts, in full agreement with Data. "This Starfleet's future as Borg drones has at least temporarily been avoided."

It was Data's turn to nod. "However, I strongly believe we should first retreat farther away from Kovar before making the attempt."

Again both Kirk and Picard exchanged concerned looks. "_Don't_ keep looking at me that way Jean-Luc," decided Kirk after a prolonged moment of silence. "Positronic androids originated in _your _time frame, and even after months of trying I still haven't been able to beat Roberts at chess. So there's _no_ way I'm going to disagree with _two_ of them when they both agree on a course of action. This is one command decision that I am _happy_ I do not have to make."

Commander Ducane laughed in reaction to Kirk's comment before his mood turned serious. "Our Temporal Integrity Commission may not like it, but your actions _have_ given us life along with a chance to prosper. We have the right to fight for our future just as you did… just as Archer has."

Picard resisted for another minute before giving in. "Very well," he said, eventually relenting with a helpless feeling and a knot in the pit of his stomach. He shook a finger aggressively in Data's direction. "But _you_ will listen to our input and let us help."

"Of course we will," confirmed Data with a confident nod. "Lt. Ingram, please transmit a message to Captain Ducane aboard the other _Relativity_ and arrange a rendezvous point at least ten parsecs away from the Kovar star system. Once you receive an acknowledgement, contact Kathryn Janeway on board the NX-01." He shifted his yellow-eyed gaze in the direction of Frank Roberts. "The telemetry provided to us by your Data indicates that Janeway has a 29th century tricorder with her. If that is the case, our time-displaced communications systems should be suitably compatible."

"They are."

"Then I think the matter is settled. We are in need of a decoy vessel native to this time period. Both Kathryn Janeway and Benjamin Sisko are in the perfect position to provide us with one. I strongly suggest that we make use of them."

"The man we are facing is _dangerous_ on a level you cannot possibly imagine," warned Picard with a visible expression of deep concern. "One mistake could cost us _everything_…"

"That is why we must defeat him while he still remains unaware of our presence," replied Captain Data. "It is obvious that our version of the Sentinel has plans for our galaxy that are similar to what took place in yours. We _must_ stop him before he can implement them."

"_We_," shrugged Kirk, sighing with detectible frustration as he calmly repeated the word with distinct and obvious frustration. "_Why_ does it _always_ have to be _we?_"

* * *

_Enterprise_ NCC-1701, Tholian Space, Alpha Quadrant

* * *

Over the next twenty minutes, Lt. Sulu dropped the _Enterprise_ back to sub-light a total of three more times. On each occasion he implemented a complex series of abrupt pivots and high impulse turns, expertly executed maneuvers that would have made even an experienced pilot blush. Despite his Captain's stern reminder that the starship was not a fighter, he had few alternatives except to push the vessel's hull stress tolerances well past the standard safety recommendations. Even with all of the distractions in the vicinity – the chaos back at the planetoid, the odd and still unknown incident on the home world, strange encrypted transmissions coming from Agni – there were still dozens and dozens of enemy ships on intercept courses specifically designed to cut off their escape route.

During their abrupt departure from the planetoid, Sulu and Chekov had discussed at least five different course changes that would bring them within range of interstellar objects large enough to hide behind. Unfortunately, the Tholian response to the _Enterprise_'s initial assault had proved to be much faster than expected. During the planning stage they had perfected the perfect route home, but when it came time to actually move out of Tholian space the young Lieutenant repeatedly found himself relying heavily on two options. The first was to fly a warp nine, high speed course directly toward home.

_After all_, he kept reminding himself, _the shortest distance between two points…_

Eventually, small groups of enemy vessels would gather together in front of the starship and force him to drop out of warp. During those times the entire ship's crew labored steadily to elude their pursuers, with Sulu relentlessly working the helm controls while Chekov lobbed torpedoes into the midst of the enemy. The resulting chaotic detonations forced the Tholians to scatter, at which point the Lieutenant would use both the forward and aft phaser banks to spear the few remaining undamaged targets.

_Then the starship would leap back into warp and resume its high speed course toward home._

And yet the spherical trap laid out by the Tholians continued to tighten like a three-dimensional noose, gradually dwindling in size. The occasional groups of ships moving inside the outer sphere continued to grow larger in number, and their weapons remained concentrated and carefully targeted toward vital areas along the starship's hull in repeated attempts to break through its powerful deflectors. Whenever the _Enterprise_ was due for its latest thumping, Sulu would drop the starship out of warp and signal for engineering to supplement the shields with the extra power output from the warp engines. Only after he and Chekov had successfully disrupted the enemy's attempts to coordinate their attacks would he risk returning to warp velocity.

A basic, high speed course in a straight-line toward the border had its disadvantages. Ships holding steady in front of them would fire plasma charges ahead of their projected flight path, allowing the starship to smash heavily into them as it flashed by. For awhile Sulu had attempted to slow down or speed up incrementally, a fraction of a warp factor at a time. But the hull stress tolerances were already well into red warning status as a result of their emergency speed. He knew from past experience that the starship was fully capable of taking a severe beating. In his head he calculated that the plasma charges were the lesser of two evils, a much smaller poison than risking reckless maneuvers at warp.

And so he slowed down, but only on those rare occasions when enough ships gathered in front of them to end their retreat with a well placed, coordinated attack. And while they were out of warp, he repeatedly steered the _Enterprise_ toward any location where there weren't enemy targets firing at them. Essentially he stalled for time, dodging as many incoming plasma charges as he could while Chekov furiously worked the enemy over with a relentless barrage of photon torpedoes. Evasive maneuvers, on this occasion, amounted to simply aiming toward any position not currently occupied by the rabidly circling enemy.

"Five minutes until we reach Federation space," reported Spock informatively, breaking the grim silence that had ensued during most of their retreat. "The _Enterprise_ is holding steady at warp nine point two."

"Sub-light maneuvering was extremely sluggish during our last deceleration," Sulu snapped brusquely in response, the tension on his face obvious. Both he and Chekov were fully aware that a starship filled with hundreds of people depended fully on what they did or did not do during the next few minutes.

"Aye lad," replied Scotty dourly from his seat at the engineering station. "We took a hit on the back end of the saucer and the damage to the reactor has reduced impulse drive output by thirty percent." Sulu blinked his eyes and snapped to attention, glancing up from the helm just long enough to recognize the ship's Chief Engineer. The Lieutenant had no idea just when Montgomery Scott had decided to join them on the bridge, but he was clearly here now. _TOO focused_, he told himself silently. _Keep your attention on the helm, yes, but AVOID tunnel vision_.

"No more sub-light stops," ordered Kirk firmly. "Sulu, reduce our speed to warp nine point one. Divert phaser power and everything else we have left to the forward shield grid."

The color drained out of Sulu's cheeks. "They're going to rip us a new one, sir."

"That's okay Lieutenant," replied the Captain. "Just don't let one of them _collide_ with us."

The main viewscreen no longer showed stars. Spock had instead chosen to display a map of the surrounding space and placed a bright green image of the _Enterprise_ at its center. The border separating Tholian space from Federation territory was a distant wall that seemed impossible to reach. In a steadily collapsing sphere around them, bright red dots indicated the presence of dozens of enemy Tholian vessels still determined to cut off any hope of escape. The enemy's ultimate goal was a simple one… to cripple the starship's warp drive, leaving them easy prey for a newer, even more powerful web shield. Everyone tensely sitting on the bridge was silently thinking the same thing… that the Tholians would _never_ let them escape from a second trap. Instead, they would simply collapse their web and subsequently put an end to their infuriating Starfleet problem.

"Number two and three shields are back to seventy percent capacity," began Spock softly. "The emitters on both have critical damage, which will significantly slow down the recharge speed."

"Acknowledged." Kirk leaned back in his command chair and studied the pattern of red dots slowly closing in around them. He pointed toward the map on the bridge viewscreen for added emphasis. "That outer sphere of Tholian vessels presents the real danger," he stated bluntly. "Other targets closer to us have been working specifically to slow us down… to keep us from reaching the border."

"I think we should pick a spot and punch a hole in that trap of theirs," Sulu agreed grimly. "We have no choice. There aren't any other friendly ships out there to help us, and we have no way of predicting how far angry Tholians will follow us into Federation space."

The bridge shuddered ominously in response to the latest barrage of incoming enemy weapons fire. Hitting the plasma charges at a ferocious warp nine instantaneously dissolved some of their bite, but the Tholian vessels still ahead of them were closely watching Sulu's minor course corrections and deliberately launching shots in front of the starship's flight path. Again the ship's superstructure rumbled in response to additional hits, and then for a third time. To already worried crewmen, the creaks and groans seemed to be getting worse with each impact.

Kirk was quietly mulling over the option of changing his mind and dropping the _Enterprise_ to sub-light velocity one final time when the entire ship shook violently yet again. This time the lights went out, but not before the Captain saw bodies flying out of their seats or rolling uncontrollably across the bridge. Emergency lighting snapped on only seconds later while Kirk worked to wipe blood off of his elbows. He was lying on his right side on deck plating near the port, circular safety railing, and it was obvious that everyone else on the bridge had been similarly thrown from their seat.

_Except for Sulu._

Somehow the Lieutenant had remained firmly glued to his seat, and he was still studying the dimly lit console readings as the _Enterprise_ rolled on her side and fell out of warp. Inertial dampers absorbed the vast majority of the unexpected rapid deceleration before fully kicking in. Seconds later, Earth-normal gravity returned as well. "They knocked us out of warp sir," reported Sulu heatedly, his voice filled with a raging defiance that Kirk appreciated hearing. "I think we lost a section or two of cabins at the front of the saucer, but all deflectors have come back on-line. I'm re-engaging warp drive… _now!_"

The engines howled in protest, then settled down into a throaty roar as the starship neatly angled between a trio of Tholian ships already moving in for the kill. The _Enterprise_ vanished into the distance with a bright flash of white light, leaving behind a flurry of crisscrossing enemy plasma charges. _The Tholians just had their best opportunity to stop us_, grinned Kirk. _And they MISSED_. "Chekov, divert thirty percent of the output from the ventral and aft shielding… use it to reinforce the number two and three shields."

"Aye sir."

He turned next to Uhura. "Damage report," he growled authoritatively, rising to his feet and straightening his tunic. _Starfleet can do a lot of wonderful things_, he thought wistfully. _But they've never been able to design a shirt that will stay tucked in_.

"That last attack destroyed cabins in section 'A' of the saucer on decks seven and eight," replied Uhura crisply. She was still on the floor where she had fallen, in a seated position, and focused on the voice-only reports crisscrossing the earwig receiver she wore in her left ear. Still listening intently, she gripped Spock's extended right arm with both hands and allowed him to pull her back to her feet. "Captain…" she said with sudden and obvious disappointment. "Section 'B' also took damage and decompressed in that area… there were at least two men from one of our damage control teams in there."

The gnawing feeling in his gut that followed was the only thing about being a starship Captain that James T. Kirk truly hated. It meant that he would be writing letters to loved ones once this was over. "Have the rest of the damage control personnel verify that all emergency bulkheads are secure," he replied coolly. "Then tell them to get the _hell_ out of there… have them retreat back into the center of the saucer with everyone else." _Where it's still at least reasonably safe_.

"There are unsealed breaches in some of those bulkheads," Spock reminded him.

"Then we're going to _lose_ a little atmosphere," snapped Kirk heatedly. "Every other system is strained to the breaking point… there's no reason we shouldn't put a little strain on life support." He moved forward, pausing just behind Sulu and Chekov as he continued to study the viewscreen's map of enemy targets. "You're right, Mr. Sulu. We're going to need to punch through that wall of ships at some point," he admitted. "Do you gentlemen have any preferences as to the spot where we hit the Tholians?"

Sulu shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "I say we keep it simple and head straight for home."

"I concur," nodded Chekov, his eyes blazing with fire. "And _damn_ any Tholian who gets in our way."

"There will be additional casualties," predicted Scotty, concern for both ship and crew plastered across his ashen features, "possibly a great many more." He looked at the engineering console and its analysis of the starship's hull stress levels. "The superstructure _will_ hold against the firepower of the Tholians, but more and more of that plasma energy of theirs is leaking through gaps in our shields with each new hit. That stuff is dissolving its way through the outer hull and is burning closer and closer toward the inhabited areas of the ship."

Kirk nodded in Scotty's direction to sincerely acknowledge his cautioning tone and then studied the viewscreen's star map, noting their close proximity to the border. "Mr. Sulu, get _my_ ship out of Tholian space as soon as possible," he demanded fiercely.

"Yes _sir_."

Just minutes later, the _Enterprise_ blew past another group of Tholians and crashed through a half dozen additional plasma bolts in the process. Additional systems overheated, and the acrid smell of electrical smoke spilled across the bridge. Around them there were even more creaks and groans as the starship's superstructure resisted multiple impacts along the top of the saucer. Kirk remained standing firmly in place behind Sulu and Chekov, eyes focused on the viewscreen. "That's it," nodded the Captain with approval. "That's it Mr. Sulu. Turn the _Enterprise_ into an unstoppable object."

_He opened his mouth to say more, but the sight of multiple red dots suddenly vanishing from the viewscreen map caused the words to fade in his throat_.

"_Two_ additional Federation starships have just emerged from a small, gaseous nebula bearing 322 mark 5," reported Spock, turning toward Kirk with a raised eyebrow of Vulcan astonishment. "It would appear that both the _Hood_ and the _Potemkin_ have somehow managed to locate us."

_Again Kirk said nothing. He simply remained silent and let everyone else on the bridge cheer_.

"They're clearing a path for us!" noted Chekov triumphantly. "They're blowing a hole right through the Tholian fleet on a bearing directly in line with our escape route."

"Captain," Uhura stated suddenly. "I'm intercepting a fleet wide order from the Tholians. Translated and decrypted, it sounds as though their commander has ordered a retreat."

Studying the new sensor telemetry with interest, Spock nodded in reply. "Both starships are moving to flank us, overlapping their shields onto ours." He continued observing scans of the brutal firefight taking place as the _Hood_ and _Potemkin_ launched a torrential flood of torpedoes and followed it up with precision-targeted phaser fire. "It's over," he declared suddenly. "The Tholians are breaking formation and reversing course. The added firepower of two more starships is proving to be a decisive deterrent."

"That's because they can't even outrun or destroy _this_ one," said Captain James T. Kirk of the starship _Enterprise_, returning to his command chair and leaning back in the seat with an audible sigh. "It's always better to be lucky than good," he chuckled with sincere and obvious relief. He winked in Scotty's direction. "That's one of the _first_ rules they teach at the Academy, by the way."

"I remember sir," the engineer replied with a wide smile.

Uhura's communication board suddenly flashed green. The fingers of her left hand briefly touched the receiver in her ear and she too smiled, feeling more relaxed and at ease than she had for quite some time. "Captain William Dougherty of the _Potemkin_ is hailing us, sir," she stated informatively.

"Transfer the signal to the main viewscreen please."

Even while using only local communications, it took several seconds for the transmission to stabilize amid the residual jamming network and weapons-generated background radiation. When it did, Kirk immediately recognized the heavy-set, well muscled Captain Dougherty… a man with blazing blue eyes and curly black hair. "Well, well, well," said Dougherty with an expression of deep concern. "_Look who we found floating around out here in the middle of nowhere_." He leaned forward, his normally cheerful face getting significantly larger in the process. "_James Tiberius Kirk. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to mess around in enemy territory without first calling for sufficient backup? You didn't have to single-handedly take on the entire Tholian fleet… we could have flown directly into the fight _with_ you!_"

Chuckling light-heartedly at the not-so-subtle jab, Kirk eyed Dougherty warily. "Our communications were unexpectedly… cut off…" he began slowly. "Starfleet Intelligence neglected to inform us that the Tholians have been improving their jamming technology. They've also added a dampening field to their web shield that completely nullified the intermix output of our warp core."

Dougherty was not one to mince words. "_Were you successful?_"

"We were," Kirk replied with a sharp, confident nod. "That is, we recovered everyone who was still alive once we located the missing vessels." He too decided not to beat around the bush. "The Tholians completely shut us down and then towed the _Enterprise_ nearly three sectors away from the site of our last check in. How the _hell_ did you find us, Bill?"

His counterpart standing on the bridge of the _Potemkin_ appeared a bit confused by the question. "_Your last message…_" he said, trailing off as he glanced back at someone off-screen. Turning back to face Kirk he gazed at the image of his colleague in puzzlement. "_Your communications officer provided us with detailed coordinates as to where you would exit Tholian space, and even suggested that we hide in the Telvia nebula_." His continued skepticism was obvious. "_She even included an estimated time of arrival – a deadline, by the way, that you beat by nearly ten minutes_."

Kirk glanced hesitantly toward Spock, but the Vulcan said nothing. Uhura simply shook her head negatively. "Captain Dougherty, I can assure you… this ship didn't send any message to you," he pointed out bluntly. "Not after we missed our scheduled check in. We were prisoners for almost…"

Vanishing from the viewscreen for a moment, Dougherty could be heard conferring with a member of his bridge crew. When he returned he held up a data card. "_Lt. Nyota Uhura, current assignment _U.S.S. Enterprise," he countered neatly. "_The message included her name, current authorization codes, and was properly encrypted using the sequence we specifically selected for the duration of this mission. You told us _exactly _where you were going to be and requested that 'the cavalry show up in time'._" He waved the pale, orange card for emphasis. "_I'll have a copy of this sent over, if you don't believe me._"

"I would appreciate that, Captain. I'm certain Lt. Uhura would appreciate a chance to review it."

Dougherty's eyes narrowed. "_Jim… MY communications expert believes that this message came from YOUR communications expert_." He laughed a bit half-heartedly. "_That's good enough for me, unless there's another starship _Enterprise _running around out here_."

The doubtful expression on Kirk's face remained. "Before we begin solving unexplained mysteries, I vote that we get out of Tholian space."

"_Agreed. We'll escort you back, and then I'll beam aboard_." He shook his head and sighed. "_Wait until you see an exterior view of your ship, by the way. It looks like you people have been through hell_."

"I assure you, it looks worse than it is, Bill... Kirk out."

"Captain, how…" Uhura got two words out before she was interrupted by everyone but Spock.

A flurry of questions flooded toward him, from Scotty, Chekov and even Sulu. Very slowly Kirk raised his right index finger and then used it to make a sudden slashing motion across the front of his throat. "_Silence!_" he growled in his most authoritative command tone, watching with satisfaction as the tumultuous racket faded instantly and his officers snapped to attention. "That's better," he decided, shifting his gaze to Sulu. "I believe my ship is still in Tholian space, Mister."

"Not for long sir," grinned an elated Sulu. He returned to his station and furiously began tapping a rapid series of command sequences into the helm and the _Enterprise_ resumed a steadier course home, this time at a much more manageable warp two.

"How the _hell_ did you stay in your seat earlier?" Kirk asked him, intrigued by the memory.

"They teach it in the simulations," the helmsman responded, still working to implement a parallel course with the starships flanking them to port and starboard. "If the pilot loses his seat, he loses control of the ship. The precious seconds after a critical hit are when a smart enemy pounces. That's why it's important to _always_ be ready to respond."

"Well, you've _more _than earned your pay for the month," decided a visibly impressed Kirk. "You too Chekov… that was some _nice_ shooting all the way."

"Thank you, sir!"

Like a ghost, Spock appeared seemingly out of nowhere by his shoulder. "Our stunning rescue by other starships does remain unexplained, at least for the moment," the Vulcan pointed out to him. "I assure you, Captain, _we_ did _not_ send that message."

"I believe you. This is exactly the kind of thing that makes me believe in guardian angels," Kirk replied.

The Vulcan remained unperturbed. "That too, would be an inaccurate description of what transpired. I shall continue to classify it as an unknown."

Frowning, the Captain cast a very annoyed glance at his First Officer. "Mr. Spock, have you ever read the book 'Great Expectations' by Charles Dickens?"

"I have." Spock paused for a moment, reviewing the story and mentally attempting to correlate the storyline to their current situation.

"Well?" Kirk asked after a moment.

"I gather that you feel we are playing the role of 'Pip' in this situation, which means whoever sent a communication to the other two starships qualifies as our 'unknown benefactor'."

"Exactly." Kirk laughed at Spock's bland reaction. "Ever since the first Earth ships left orbit, we've been shot at, kidnapped, murdered, bullied, ordered around and otherwise abused in a variety of ways that I can only _begin_ to explain. And during all that time we've abided by a moral code and tried to do the _right_ thing… to turn the other cheek whenever possible. It's very similar, I think, to a young Pip feeling compassion for and aiding an escaped convict by giving him some food and water."

"The character of Pip assisted the convict because he was bullied and threatened."

"Nevertheless, the convict made a conscious choice to turn his life around. And he never forgot that a young boy helped him, going out of his way to provide assistance – even though it was anonymous assistance – to Pip even after he matured into adulthood."

"I fail to see how this relates to our particular situation."

"I really… don't… _care_ who our unknown benefactor is," said Kirk, his voice rising just high enough to convey his annoyance. "I'll have McCoy explain it to you later, when he's done treating patients. All you need to know is that, after all of Starfleet's struggles over the years, we've _earned_ ourselves an unknown benefactor or two. I'll willingly take that help, even if I don't know _who_ provided it!" He exhaled with mild frustration and cast a wary eye toward his First Officer. "Is _that_ a satisfactory explanation?"

"Affirmative."

"Good."

Relieved, Kirk allowed himself to release some of the repressed emotions he had been feeling throughout the extended duration of the crisis as the _Enterprise_ and its two escorts cruised smoothly back toward Federation space.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:** Obviously a very FUN chapter to write with all of the action sequences, attempting like the devil to keep everyone as firmly in character as possible. I also deliberately had the older Kirk reflecting back on this story's incident with the Tholians. I think it's one of the best ways to illustrate how we humans change as we age. BOTH Picard and Kirk grew somewhat more reserved and less bold, and it is clearly obvious in "Star Trek: Generations" that the punches hurt a little more and a Captaincy isn't always as enjoyable as it once was. But both are men of duty and honor, and in the end they always choose to do the right thing. They've been portrayed on televesion and in the movies by the best of the best, and that's why we love reading and watching their adventures so very much._

_Quite obviously, I'm violating my traditional 20-22 chapter format this time around. So WHERE will this roller coaster ride finally end?_

_You're NEVER going to believe it!_

_Regards,_

_SoT_


	21. Rivals

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Rivals

* * *

**

Mirror Universe, Somewhere in Subspace

* * *

_For the first time in as long as she could remember, Dr. Kalita Rama could not see. The woman who she had once been, prior to becoming the Queen of the Borg, was foremost in her thoughts as she hovered somewhere completely unknown. She had attempted to raise an arm several times, but there was no feeling at all – no sign that she still possessed a physical body or extremities of any kind, natural or artificial. Her immediate gratification upon accepting Data's extended hand and escaping Soran's certain, violent fury faded almost immediately once her familiar view of the interior of the command vessel was gone. For the first time in her life, be it existing as humanoid or Borg, she had absolutely no idea where she was._

The complete lack of control after centuries of completely dominating virtually everyone and everything she encountered was utterly terrifying.

_She was certain of one thing… whatever had happened to her was not death. Given the overt hostile nature of the Borg attacks on other space-going vessels and the Collective's repeated attacks on alien home worlds over the years, she had died on many occasions. Not every race was as weak or lacking in defenses as it might first appear, and occasionally counter-attacks against the Borg were successful. That was why a majority of her humanoid brain had been removed and replaced with sophisticated electronics. As Queen her day to day memories were regularly uploaded to backup storage devices. Each time she was killed, a new clone would be created and the successor would download all necessary data and simply resume normal Borg operations as though she had never even perished._

_The Collective regularly sorted through and prioritized all of her memory files, keeping the electronics attached directly to her cerebral cortex continuously updated with only what was deemed to be pertinent information. Therefore Data's reference to 'Dr. Kalita Rama' had caught her completely by surprise. With the voices normally advising her so suddenly terminated by Soran, the Queen had been left with no choice but to access her own memory archives and search for the relevant data._ **Species 0001**_, she thought silently to herself, the retrieved data somehow still available to her._ **I was ONCE a member**_. Emotions that she had long since thought herself incapable of processing came rushing back, especially a massive surge of shame as her long dormant conscience stirred to life and Dr. Rama began to realize just how terrible the Borg atrocities had been._

_As the self-appointed leader of the Collective, she personally was guilty of war crimes a THOUSAND times over. SHE had made the decision to implant a micro-chip in her head and then repeated the procedure with Chancellor Ari Veller and his aides. As if that hadn't been horrifying enough, she had allowed her anger to control her decision making by covertly taking control of the chips and forcing others to do her bidding. All of those memories from so long ago were available to her now, somehow reconstituted here in this strange place that strangely seemed like nowhere and everywhere at the same time. And unfortunately for her, the thoughts were suddenly more biological in nature than technological. Very quickly she fell into a depressed, silent version of weeping as her soul began to mourn for those whom she had trodden upon. And – since drones had been so closely linked to her – she began seeing and feeling everything they had._

_First she was a mother hovering near her husband and children, terrified as drones approached them on the surface of their home world. She felt the abrupt SHOCK and PAIN of assimilation, as tubules injected a stream of nano-probes into the woman's bloodstream. Then her view shifted suddenly and she was seeing through the eyes of a crewman serving on one of the defending vessels. She felt his deep-rooted FEAR as the ominous Borg cube stalking their home world fired on his ship. The image died in a blaze of fire as the inferior ship disintegrated around a man still determined to stop the invaders. Next her perspective shifted into a humanoid newly assimilated, and she felt everything he did as body parts were removed and replaced with technology. The knowledge and sensation of implants moving deep beneath the skin horrified the individual, and she relived every second of it._

For what seemed like an eternity, she felt ALL of it.

**Why did you BRING me here?** _she demanded angrily, unable to control her thoughts_. **Is this your GRAND plan… to shutter me away in your own personal purgatory, alone with MY thoughts, for all time?**

**No**_, came a sudden, surprisingly gentle response. _**I brought you here for REDEMPTION**.

_Still unable to see, feel or hear anything, the sudden presence of even a single voice from the silent, surrounding darkness was welcome… something the Queen clung to with all of her might_. **Data?**

**YES**_, he replied firmly and calmly_. **I am here**.

_A thousand questions sprang to mind, her computerized thoughts somehow amplified substantially. Even without the presence of her Collective, she was able to analyze and process information much more swiftly than she had ever done as Queen of the Borg_. **Where IS this place… where are WE?**

**I brought you into a FOLD of subspace where a massive network of resources exists. This is its ENTRY level. The network is USED by many cultures, but was initially constructed and is currently maintained by a RACE of beings known throughout the galaxy as the Preservers. They live many YEARS in our distant future**.

**I do not LIKE this place**_, she decided_. **I want to go back, even if I must die at SORAN'S hands**.

_There was a brief pause that unnerved her before Data's voice returned_. **You cannot GO back**_, he informed her cautiously_. **Your physical BODY no longer exists… it was sacrificed in order to TRANSFER your life force into the computer systems here**.

**WHY did you DO THIS to ME?** _the Queen snarled fiercely, growing angrier by the moment_.

_Unexpectedly she actually 'felt' his presence linking together with her own thoughts. It was an experience that somehow made her feel safe, and she felt herself relaxing slightly_. **When I first JOURNEYED briefly into this DOMAIN, I too had trepidations**_, Data admitted_. **It took the presence of a FRIEND to guide me through the REMAINDER of the orientation process, and I plan to fill that same role on YOUR behalf**.

_Skepticism on a level she could not possibly measure surged through the Queen's mind_. **You** **plan to BE my FRIEND?** _she scoffed in response_. **I LEAD the galaxy's greatest ENEMY**.

**Not any more**_, he stated simply by way of reply_. **You have two CHOICES remaining… accept the TERMS of this environment and open yourself entirely to its SCRUTINY unconditionally, or fade away into non-existence. We cannot KEEP you here against your will**.

**But you will NOT let me return to my body?**

**No**.

**Then if I want TO survive…?**

**There really is only ONE choice for you, isn't there?** _In Data's voice there was no trace of amusement, only a serious intent to address the tough issue she was faced with_.

**No, I would PREFER non-existence**_, the Queen decided abruptly, surprising even herself_. **My emotional feelings have been TURNED back on and I cannot stand RELIVING everything that I did to others. To stay HERE is to be punished on a continual BASIS**.

**It was NECESSARY for you to expose yourself to those FEELINGS. Along with the memories of your previous LIFE as Dr. Kalita Rama, they will GUIDE you most quickly back to independent THOUGHT. Ironically, as much as you are hated across the GALAXY, you too were JUST another unfortunate victim in the grand SCHEME of things**.

_She felt genuine astonishment_. **You cannot SINCERELY believe that**.

**THINK back to your previous life, Dr. Rama**_, stated Data insistently_. **Your world's cities were DESTROYED utterly, leaving a majority of your planet's POPULATION dead. You could not have KNOWN that the rumors of Chancellor Ari Veller's nation abusing ANTI-MATTER were valid. Once you discovered the TREACHERY of his government, your subsequent, out of control emotions made you VULNERABLE. And once you used the technology LEFT behind by the Scholar to create your own COLLECTIVE, you became inescapably trapped in a machination that was admittedly your creation, but NOT entirely your fault. No one could have predicted what would happen thereafter**.

_Dr. Rama became frustrated._** HOW can you say that? I forcibly took control of Veller and others who had implanted micro-chips. Those who did NOT yet have them were FORCIBLY assimilated at MY order… at MY order, I tell you. You have returned MY memories to me, and unless they have been TAMPERED with the facts are indisputable**.

_She could literally sense how strongly Data disagreed with her_. **There was a powerful, SENTIENT artificial intelligence programmed into the Scholar's computer**_, he informed her_. _Lines of computer code began streaming through her consciousness, and she had absolutely no idea where any of it originated from. Even so, much of it made sense to her and was easily read_. **Can you SEE the decision tree and the hierarchy?** he _asked her_. **The SURVIVAL of the Collective instantly became paramount, consistently prioritized at the very TOP. Once you linked even a PAIR of minds together, a COLLECTIVE consciousness was formed – a separate, distinct personality that ITSELF wanted to survive. You became a PAWN and an unwilling drone of sorts yourself, convinced that a decision from a Collective group MIND would always be the better decision.**

**It always IS the BETTER decision**_, she scoffed_.

**In reality your statement is not TRUE. I know I am correct, because history has demonstrated on MANY occasions that the unpredictable NATURE of independent minds can easily confuse the Collective. Repeated Borg LOSSES during combat are only some of its greatest failures. The Collective, however, convinced you to assimilate the REST of the people on your WORLD because it WANTED to perpetuate and EXPAND its own existence. It lied to you about what was BEST for your world and augmented your own ambition with its OWN. The survival and restoration of your people was only a secondary OBJECTIVE. As you have SEEN, the micro-chips you harvested from the Scholar's computer disconnected you from the individual you were, Dr. Kalita Rama, so that you could NO longer view the world around you on an EMOTIONAL basis**.

**What I am feeling NOW is emotion?**

**Yes. It is most probably a mixture of SHAME and REGRET. But you must understand that you originated from a DYING world where there were few options left available to you. You made decisions in an EFFORT to SAVE your planet and received only LIMITED help from the SCHOLAR prior to his abrupt departure. His interference was TRULY devastating in the aftermath of your WAR. The Preservers are just as guilty for what you became as you or any of your PEOPLE would be. Those of us who POSSESS advanced technology must act RESPONSIBLY, and in universes as large as yours and mine are, that does not ALWAYS happen. Humanoid minds in particular are driven as much by emotion as by rational thinking**.

**How have my biological QUALITIES been preserved?**

**Some of the technology here in SUBSPACE is biological in nature, OR it EMULATES biological processes so closely that there is LITTLE difference. If you TRUST us and open yourself up so that we can COMPLETE your transition to this environment, you WILL see**.

_Even overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions she had been feeling, Dr. Kalita Rama persisted in playing the role of the doubtful Borg Queen_. **Why can't I preview things first… why must you SEE everything about me?**

**Because there can be NO deception here. We too have a Collective of SORTS, but it is much DIFFERENT than what you are used to. Everyone HERE is an EQUAL and must subject themselves to constant scrutiny. A complex series of PROTOCOLS are in place specifically to protect the IDENTITY and PRIVACY of those who dwell here. Only what you WANT others to see will be released as COMMON data, but the OPERATING system must have ACCESS to all**.

_The scientist in her was slowly returning, Dr. Rama noticed. As she listened to his words, she noticed that Data had already opened himself up completely to her… absolutely nothing in his own memory was off limits to her. Time seemed not to exist in this realm, so she had no idea how long she probed and searched and analyzed his telemetry before she was reasonably satisfied that he was telling the truth. And as he had so bluntly pointed out, her other remaining alternative was to fade away into non-existence_. **How can YOU or anyone in this REALM offer me redemption? Is that not something ONLY an Intelligent Designer can do?**

**From my observation of humanity over the years, I believe that the vast majority of the redemption process will be up to you. If you can succeed in PUTTING aside all of the bad that you have done and make a sincere EFFORT to contribute positively from THIS point forward, I predict matters will improve substantially for you**.

_Working efficiently and expertly, Data located additional telemetry and personal logs regarding the subspace network and made the information available to her. Dr. Rama absorbed it instantly. Fascinated, she reviewed the reports on his travels up until the point where he transferred his own consciousness into subspace_. **But this is REMARKABLE, the former Borg Queen decided. You have SEEN things and traveled to places the Borg have never been… how IS this possible?**

**Your Collective was comprised of the SAME flawed, emotional humanoid minds that existed before they were assimilated, he told her. It was VERY efficient at managing them, anticipating potential contingencies and in ADAPTING to changing conditions, but it was BY no means perfect. Historically ANY form of humanoid has had to overcome weaknesses and constantly work hard in order to succeed… the Borg were no different. You were simply better at coordinating their thoughts by sacrificing much of what it means to be biological in the process**.

_Intrigued by what he had shown her and growing more relaxed as she continued to learn more, Dr. Kalita Rama released the last of her resistance and opened herself up to full examination as Data had suggested. Shortly thereafter she joined a noticeably different Collective than the one she was used to. Surprisingly, with her own personality and emotions restored, she did not mind_. **I can work HERE**_, she concluded with more than a little astonishment at the swiftness of her acceptance_. **I can LEARN here**.

It would no doubt take considerable time to heal emotionally, but she was off to a reasonable start.

* * *

Alpha Quadrant, March 2, 2154, _U.S.S. Relativity

* * *

_

Walking with considerable self-confidence, Captain Thomas Joseph Ducane entered the Timeship's brig and nodded toward the crewman on duty. "Take a break Ensign," he suggested firmly. "I'll watch things in here for awhile."

The tall and spindly dark-haired crewman nodded respectfully toward his commander and exited out into the corridor. Ducane passed by the facility's operations console and approached the row of six cells on the opposite side. Three of them were in operation, two of which had been specially reinforced on all sides with energy barriers. He had decided not to take any unnecessary risks with the enigmatic Krell, aliens whom Frank Roberts had cautioned him to tread very carefully around. It was not the pair of cells containing the Krell that interested him, however. Ducane continued walking past them until he reached the third. Sitting on a bench at the rear of the spacious interior, Soran glanced up and then sneered.

"Have you come to gloat, Captain?"

"No."

Ducane studied the Doctor with a mixture of frustration and anger welling up inside of him. He had begun the mission to stop Soran feeling genuine compassion for the man, someone whose emotions had obviously been torturing him for decades after the loss of his family. To deny that the El-Aurian was suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder would be foolish, and yet there were limits to how far he could extend his empathy. And so he simply paused for a few minutes, watching Soran curiously and trying to discern if there were any residual traces of positive emotion in the man. And as he stood there, the Doctor continued to snicker and laugh at him while offering no indication that he cared about anyone except himself.

"So what's our next move?" asked Soran finally, breaking the awkward silence. "Are the Preservers going to blackball me out of their service and subject me to _their_ brand of justice, or are you going to assign me to one of those benign, spineless penal colonies of yours back on Earth?"

"Neither." Ducane glanced down at the right sleeve of his uniform and brushed some lint off of it before shifting his gaze back toward the Doctor. "Have you _any_ idea what you've done?"

Soran smiled in response, but there was no humor of any kind included in the expression. "I have successfully defeated _a_ Borg Collective," he began, studying Ducane's reaction like a predatory cat ready to spring. "Not _the_ Collective I was hoping to destroy, mind you… perhaps someday I'll get a chance to take another crack at _ours_."

"I don't think so Doctor," hissed Ducane softly with growing irritation. "What you have done goes _far_ beyond any mere crime. You're going to be lucky if you ever see _daylight_ again."

"You can't scare me," Soran countered, the edge of his lip on the left side of his face curling upward. "I worked with Starfleet for decades and know your laws well. You _rehabilitate_ criminals instead of executing them. So too do the Preservers. Wherever you end up sending me, I expect it's going to be a nice, relaxed lifestyle… much more preferable to all the work that Frank Roberts has been shoving my way. I assure you, I _won't_ miss the Council of the Elders."

"This isn't just a criminal matter."

Ducane's brief comment caused the Doctor's smile to fade. "What do you _mean_ Ducane?"

"I _mean_ that your personal security is now at great risk. We're talking _war_ crimes Doctor, and that's just for a start. Your repeated ability to ignore any law that conflicts with what you personally want to do has earned you a dire future. You will eventually be charged with what almost certainly will be war crimes. After that, there are numerous Starfleet _temporal_ laws you have broken along with the Preserver laws you violated by stealing their ships, equipment and personnel. You also abandoned an active Guild contract… something the Council of the Elders takes _very_ personally." Grim-faced, the Captain glared reproachfully at Soran, freezing him where he stood. "Only _after_ all of those issues have been fully addressed can we get around to taking a look at your massive criminal record."

A much smaller burst of arrogance and pride touched Soran's expression. "Rehabilitation Captain," he suggested. "I have a medical condition, you see," he chuckled, tapping his right temple with an index finger. "If you give me a second chance, I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement…"

"Medical condition notwithstanding, there is also a definite cruel streak running through you," snapped Ducane sharply. "And I am _not_ the person you have to worry about. We're currently on our way to rendezvous with the mirror _Relativity_. The war crimes, after all, were committed _here_, in _this_ universe. In all likelihood you're going to have to answer to _them_."

"_What?_" Soran moved slowly closer to the shimmering, invisible force field barrier separating him from Captain Ducane. "It was _Data_ who moved us all over to a parallel universe without our knowledge. You can't be thinking of simply abandoning us here…" The Doctor trailed off at the frightful prospect of spending the rest of his life in an unknown realm that was not his own – a place where people at first glance seemed to be almost exact duplicates and just as friendly. But he knew better than anyone that appearances could often be deceiving, and he felt his anxiety level rapidly beginning to escalate.

"I wish I could help you Doctor, but matters are no longer completely under my control." Somehow, some way, Ducane was determined to remain calm. This despite the fact that Soran's mere presence now infuriated him more than the Doctor could ever suspect.

"Matters have _never_ been under your control!" shouted Soran fiercely. He slapped his hands angrily against the force field, sending a sizzling spray of azure fire radiating outward from the areas he touched. "You speak like you have every right to bring me to justice, and have already pre-judged me to be a criminal. Well what about _MY_ rights Captain? What about the rights of my _wife _and _children?_" His hands continued to press against the force field, generating ongoing showers of energy-charged fireworks and a loud electronic buzzing noise. "The _Borg_ destroyed my entire world, Captain, and no one – _especially_ Starfleet – lifted even a finger to do anything about it."

"What would you have had them do?" queried Ducane curiously. "Starfleet had neither the resources nor the ability to combat the Borg when your planet was attacked. Defense of your world, at the time, was clearly impossible for cultures still beginning their exploration of the galaxy."

"I couldn't disagree with you more, Captain! You have people constantly at the ready in the 29th century to monitor the timeline and swiftly address incursions as soon as they are detected. To this very day _all_ of those people coldly sit back day after bloody day and let history remain static… with star system after star system having fallen to the Borg. Only Admiral _Janeway_ had the courage to finally stand up to them and go on the offensive. She didn't hesitate to use time travel and deal them a killing blow."

"It appears you know a great deal about our history."

"I had plenty of time to discuss these matters with _Picard_," sneered Soran derisively, almost spitting out the name. "I think a legitimate case could be made that the United Federation of Planets has and continues to be guilty of _isolationism_, of looking the other way while genocide was inflicted against _my_ people!" He pulled his hands suddenly back from the buzzing force shield, but was clearly still enraged. "When people like Admiral _Janeway_ break your temporal laws to save their friends, they pat themselves on the back for their creative ingenuity. But when _I_ do the very same thing, you shove me inside a jail cell and label me a _war_ criminal."

"First, your irrational behavior began _after _your planet was destroyed," responded Ducane coolly. "It was clearly revenge that motivated you – not defense of your family and people. Secondly, your _right_ to swing your fist ends where another person's chin begins."

"Again you make no sense. What the _hell_ does _that_ mean Ducane?"

Seething inside, the Captain allowed part of his raging, internal tiger to emerge. "What do _I_ mean?" he growled ominously in response. "How about we begin with _Veridian IV_," he suggested coarsely. "I believe it was more than 200 _million_ pre-industrial humanoids that were nearly annihilated by your efforts to destroy the star in that system in order to change the course of the Nexus energy ribbon. And _why_ did you do this? You did it to ease your own personal pain, so that _you_ and you alone could feel a little bit better. And in the process you were willing to sacrifice the population of an entire planet, thereby committing the very _same _kind of atrocities as the Borg you so despise."

"I simply could not deal with the pain any longer," the Doctor admitted, settling down for the first time since his anger had initially flared out of control. "The brief moment I spent within the Nexus was the _only_ time after losing Vialla that I felt any peace at all… and my soul has since been… tortured… by the loss of my family. My behavior admittedly grew somewhat…"

"Obsessive." Ducane sternly faced Soran with a haunted look in his eyes. The lines of experience and maturity on his face tightened – he felt helpless dealing with someone so at odds with life. The scientist in front of him had crossed the boundaries of decency long ago, and it appeared as though he had even learned to enjoy being cruel and ruthless over the passage of time.

"Obsessive?" Soran mulled the word over, examining its meaning silently for a moment. "I wouldn't go that far. I mean, I do admit that I may have done some things that I now regret…"

"Like torturing Jean-Luc Picard's Chief Engineer and sending the Klingons after the _Enterprise-D?_"

"Captain, please don't judge me _too_ harshly."

"Your behavior was clearly compulsive and extremely dangerous to anyone who got in your way. You were and continue to be a ticking time bomb, Dr. Soran. And when you go off, you always seem to take a lot of innocent, often defenseless people down with you!"

"Nevertheless, my argument is sound. Your 29th century operatives could have intervened and _prevented_ my loss. I was a happy father until the _Borg_ arrived."

"In which case, you still may have turned violent for any number of other reasons." Ducane shook his head with frustration. "Our tampering with history is strictly forbidden – we have very strict laws on that matter. This vessel has admittedly had its problems with Kathryn Janeway and other Starfleet Captains, but we do not live in a perfect universe." Ducane paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "What happened to your planet and the people living on it is truly unfortunate, but I don't have the _right_ to risk injuring innocents in order to insure that families like yours do not suffer – each and every one of _them_ has the exact same rights as you do. Temporal meddling of any sort would change history and eliminate some of them from the timeline." He shook his head defiantly. "We could spend _years_ trying hundreds of different incursions and probably _still_ wouldn't get everything to come out perfectly."

"Then _who_ makes those tough calls? Every law must be broken sooner or later, and Starfleet _has_ intervened with historical incidents on many occasions. _Who_ gets to decide, Captain? Who decides when families like mine receive help and when they must die… who judges Kathryn Janeway a hero and me a vicious criminal?"

"That is _why_ we as people form _governments_ Doctor and assemble a suitable military to protect our interests. We do so to insure that no single individual makes unilateral decisions of that nature. We choose leaders who will make tough decisions rationally after evaluating matters thoroughly. Because if _everyone_ who suffered a loss in life used their pain as an excuse to take matters into their own hands, anarchy would reign supreme throughout the galaxy. Even people who _perceived_ that they had been wronged would attack those they deemed to be an enemy. History has tragically shown that the lack of proper law enforcement inevitably triggers large-scale wars."

"_Government_." Soran sneered venomously as he spoke the word.

"Janeway subjected both herself and her ship's logs to a thorough scrutiny," continued Ducane. "She was judged innocent by a jury of her peers."

"Well _my_ government no longer exists… it was _destroyed_ by the Borg! _Don't_ patronize me Captain," snarled a newly infuriated Soran. "I have the _right_ to pick up arms and defend my family just like you have the right to use this Timeship to defend your precious Federation." He glared hatefully at Ducane. "And I really don't care if I have to violate your laws in order to do it."

"I know you don't care about the rule of law," acknowledged Ducane with a brisk nod. "You are willing to shove aside rationality, even reality. You have proven that you are capable of sacrificing anyone who gets in your way. In a sense, you have actually become _worse_ than the Borg. At least their lack of compassion is programmed. You have repeatedly made a conscious _choice_ to be evil and disregard the welfare of others during the pursuit of your own agenda."

"How _DARE_ you!"

Shrugging the stinging response aside, Ducane folded his arms indifferently. "As far as I'm concerned, you can allow your hatred to control you whenever you want to now, Dr. Soran," the Captain pointed out. "Nothing's going to change, and you _will_ answer for the crimes you have committed."

Surprisingly and somewhat astonishingly, Soran leered at him in response, as though he was no longer afraid. "But you _have_ to let me go."

"Doctor…"

"I'm not joking Captain," Soran continued with a bright spark of near insanity in his eyes. "I left a gift out there somewhere, you see… a present for Jean-Luc."

"Really." Ducane scoffed at the scientist, clearly unimpressed. "I promise Doctor, _nothing_ you have done will succeed. Our temporal sensors will detect any tampering on your part, and this vessel or its counterpart will promptly journey to any point in history so we can remedy any further historical interruptions. With the loss of your ship and your freedom, you can no longer stop us."

The Captain exhaled slowly and then took a deep breath. He decided to take that particular opportunity to exit the brig, leaving behind the sound of Soran's hysterical shrieking. He shook his head with disgust at the deranged scientist's unbalanced behavior, deeply concerned for the man's very soul. At some point in the past Soran had completely given in to his negative emotions and allowed them to control his behavior. Over the decades, his compulsive behaviors had flourished and grown until he was filled with an all-consuming hatred. The Sentinel's process for duplicating humans had proven to be as accurate as he had once claimed – clearly the restored version of Tolian Soran was just as disturbed as his predecessor had been. Idly, Ducane wondered if the Doctor had ever sincerely worked to help Frank Roberts and the Preservers during his time spent living in the distant future. More likely, he had simply used his new lease on life to bide his time until he an opportunity to renew his quest for vengeance presented itself.

"Ensign Paulson, you may return to duty," he told the crewman waiting calmly in the corridor.

"Aye, sir." The freckle-faced crewman gestured toward the brig entrance. "He screams like that a lot… even in his sleep, during the night shift sometimes. Isn't there anything we can do to help him?"

"Dr. Soran is a very disturbed individual," noted Ducane brusquely. "Dr. Matthews has begun treating him with the appropriate medication, but it will take time to stabilize his mental faculties."

A strong, persistent feeling of disappointment followed him like a shadow as he walked briskly in the direction of the nearest turbolift. His mood lightened somewhat during the brief ride to the bridge. When the doors in front of him finally snapped cleanly open he exited swiftly and then stopped, eyes focusing immediately upon the main viewscreen. The ship had obviously dropped out of warp, because he could plainly see an image of the other _Relativity_ floating gently in space. Flanking it to port was an NX- class starship, a vessel that could only be Jonathan Archer's _Enterprise_.

Lt. Commander Ingram turned slightly in her seat and flashed him a confident smile. "It appears as though they've been making plans without us," she speculated.


	22. Strange Bedfellows

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Strange Bedfellows

* * *

**

Preserver star cluster 112, Council of the Elders, 5.2 million years in the future

* * *

Charles "Trip" Tucker III was seated in a spacious, circular lounge with a cool beverage sitting on the table in front of him, reviewing a series of computerized summary reports when Jonathan Archer finally located his colleague of many years and long-time friend. Although, Archer decided unexpectedly and with mild amusement, since he was a recreation of the original this man was in reality Charles "Trip" Tucker number _four_. Like Jean-Luc Picard and James Kirk, he had been duplicated using the technology confiscated from the Sentinel during his trial. The decision hadn't been controversial at the time, but matters had changed considerably once the newly resurrected Tucker began asking a series of complex, hard to answer questions about his past. Of course he could never return to his old life, especially since the _Enterprise_ engineering officer had died young… well before he had a chance to age gracefully.

For awhile, Archer had been forced to live in the future as a sophisticated hologram, even though the computerized matrix controlling his personality was a virtual duplicate of the original Captain's brain patterns. Then Benjamin Sisko and Kathryn Janeway had approached him in the aftermath of their mission to help Data do battle with the Overseer. It hadn't taken the three of them long to decide that they wanted their humanity back – and they wanted it very badly. Thus a series of discussions had begun and lasted for many weeks as the Council of the Elders met regularly to discuss the concept of literally 'creating help' by duplicating people from years long since past. The immediate benefits were obvious – the Preserver Guilds were always short-handed and in need of additional workers, and those who were chosen and brought back to life could be recruited to fill specific job vacancies that required their knowledge and experience.

In the end the three of them were granted their wish to exist as biological humanoids, but with strings attached. Frank Roberts was an android whose mind was capable of tackling projects much too large for other life forms, and he was also the newest member of the Council appointed to replace the Sentinel and simultaneously represent Starfleet's interests. Therefore Roberts received an order to form and head a committee that would oversee the duplication process for all future life forms to be copied by the Preservers. The preferred method would remain the same: those chosen would exist first as holograms, making a conscious choice to abandon their previous life and work instead for the Council. Each choice would be officially recorded using a printed waiver and an official signature. Proper oversight was extremely critical on this matter, especially to the Magistrate in charge of supervising sentient rights.

After all, the Preservers were well known throughout history for their consistent efforts, regularly working on a series of massive, long-term projects that no other culture could hope to complete. Many of those projects had lasted for dozens of centuries. Therefore, the last thing they wanted to see at this point in their history would be more Tolian Sorans unexpectedly absconding into the past, taking with them valuable resources in the hopes of settling old scores. The Preservers too had pledged to protect the integrity of the overall timeline, but only to a point and in a much different manner than was traditional for Starfleet. Wherever life forms were hurting or failing throughout history, the Preservers were always there – willing to lend a hand, but only if their efforts allowed planets and life forms everywhere to thrive. Rumors were already spreading about Data's use of universal transit to eliminate an out of control Borg Collective. Archer had already confirmed for his own sake that both the Chaplain and Magistrate were pleased at the outcome.

Trip picked up the frosted glass and studied the rivulets of cold moisture running down its side for a moment, aware of Archer's entrance. "Is the mission team on its way back yet?" he asked curiously. "We could really use their help here… I haven't slept more than five hours at a time for over a week trying to get all this work done. It's been better now that we have most of Captain Hernandez's crew to assist us with all the busy work, but I'd still prefer it if all of our senior staff were in place."

"I expect their return will be soon, but they do have some loose ends to tie off," replied Archer, pulling out a chair across from his former Commander and taking a seat. "What are you drinking?"

"Lemonade," grinned Tucker, sipping at his drink. He pointed a thumb toward a replicator next to the curving metal wall. "They have _billions_ of different beverages programmed into that thing, and yet I chose plain old fashioned lemonade with a splash of pure cane sugar. I guess I miss home a little bit more than I thought I would."

"It wouldn't be normal if you didn't," Archer decided with a chuckle. "After being recruited from the past to assist in the battle against the Sentinel, you and I were both created after his defeat… before our original selves were returned to their own time. So it's only natural that memories of life in Starfleet and all of its possibilities would still be fresh in our minds." He sighed and took a moment to think things over. "It's impossible to tell if my brief existence as a hologram caused any variations from the real Jonathan Archer's personality. Our experiences living here, so far in the future, working almost non-stop with so many different alien species on such a large, intergalactic scale…" He trailed off, still somewhat awed by the entirety of it all. "Well let's just say that this place and our experiences since we were copied have probably done more to send the two of us spiraling off in a different direction than anything else could have."

"For me it didn't take much at all," commented Tucker almost bitterly as he continued to sip at his drink. "Simply _existing_ has turned out to be a new direction for me."

There was a prolonged, awkward silence as both of them contented themselves for a time with the privacy of their own personal thoughts. "You peeked," said Archer finally. "You looked at your history file and discovered what eventually happens to the other you, didn't you?" He shook his head in a mild scold of the engineer. "I thought we both agreed not to do that."

Tucker glanced down at the floor, moving his feet uncomfortably as he felt mild regret at abandoning an agreement with his former Captain. "I guess I couldn't help it," he admitted after another brief pause. "Ever since my sister's death during the initial Xindi attack on Earth, I've been mighty curious as to what becomes of the rest of the Tuckers… of my family's blood line." A reserved smile flashed across his face. "It also doesn't take a genius to figure out that Frank Roberts created me for a reason." He shrugged his shoulders casually. "Obviously, something bad happens to me in the past, and Roberts wanted to give me a second chance at life."

"What, may I ask, made you come to that conclusion?"

"Oh come on Captain," growled Tucker a bit irritably. "The ruckus amongst the Council members, triggered by the Sentinel's actions, may have been gradually dying down when I suddenly opened my eyes and took my first step into this brave new world of ours. I remember how many members were genuinely outraged at the Sentinel's reckless decision to begin copying sentient life forms… especially the dangerous experiments he ran on some of them. There was all of that controversy brewing, and yet for some reason Frank Roberts went out of his way to copy _me_. Holograms were sufficient for the three of _you_, but to me he gave back the entire, wondrous spark of life in the middle of a sea of protests."

"That does make a lot of sense," agreed Archer. "My curiosity might have gotten the better of me as well, if I were in your shoes." He sat down in an empty chair and set the data padd he was holding on the table surface. "T'Pol's logic must still be fresh in that mind of yours. You obviously learned a lot from her, during those times when the two of you weren't yelling at each other." The two of them laughed suddenly, enjoying the memories of their limited time aboard _Enterprise_. "By the way Trip. I think you'll agree that things _have_ changed significantly regarding our current lifestyle. So I don't mind if you call me Jonathan, and I'm sure Captain Hernandez won't get upset if you refer to her as Erika."

"Force of habit," he countered. "I still think of myself as _Commander_ Tucker too… perhaps if there weren't so many familiar faces constantly surrounding us it would be easier to let go."

"Picard and Kirk are on a first-name basis, as are Janeway and Sisko…"

"Pretty easy for members of your Captain's club," Tucker countered with a smile. "I've always been one of the folks working down in the trenches."

"So you reviewed your own history file," mused Archer thoughtfully, shifting the topic of discussion immediately back to the topic that most interested him. "What did you think?"

"Have _you_ read it?"

"Of course I did. Having known you for years and practiced a starship Captain's armchair version of psychology, I suspected _you_ were going to get to it eventually."

"I was a little disappointed in myself actually," decided Tucker. "Usually our standard operating procedure is to kill the bad guys and keep ourselves safe. That must have been some spur of the moment decision I was faced with, and I _definitely_ don't think it merited a posthumous award. Any one of us serving on that vessel would have sacrificed our own life to save others… it's kind of an unspoken trait that Starfleet looks for in its recruits." He glanced past Archer's right shoulder toward the replicator. "I would like another ice-cold lemonade please," he requested in a normal speaking voice.

Almost immediately, a second chilled beverage sparkled into existence on the table surface, materializing with a low, electronic hum in a soft blaze of emerald-hued sparks.

"You can operate the replicators _remotely _with a simple voice command?" Archer raised an eyebrow at the demonstration as Trip nodded firmly. "Okay, I'll have what he's having," grinned the Captain. Seconds later, he too held a tall, frosty glass of cold lemonade. He sipped at it tentatively. "Not bad for a five million year old recipe," he decided.

"Did you look at your file yet?" wondered Tucker.

"Hmm?" Archer lifted his eyes to meet the Commander's.

"Did you look at _your_ file?"

"No," declared Archer firmly. "I signed the Council's waiver and wouldn't want to tempt myself. The original Captain Jonathan Archer would want to be left alone, and he would also want Starfleet's timeline preserved as fully as possible. You and I both fought pretty hard for that more than once." His eyes drifted toward all of the electronic data readers on the table. Trip was literally surrounded by stacks of them. "How goes the long-term planning?"

Tucker snorted with annoyance and shook his head negatively. "Most of this, as we've already speculated, has to _wait_ until the rest of our team comes back." He sighed deeply and then glanced up at Archer. "_Why_ didn't they take us with them?" he asked, sighing deeply. "Both of us were used to being out in the field, doing things… not sitting around somewhere literally drowning in paperwork. I don't know about you, but I'd much rather have rolled up my sleeves and dug into somebody's warp core."

"You already _know_ why Trip," countered Archer. "Temporal mechanics can be a very unpredictable science, especially when people are deliberately trying to interfere with its normal flow." He pulled another slim, silver-colored data reader from his belt and tossed it onto the table in front of the engineer. "The mission began in our timeframe, and that means a possibility would exist where we could meet up with our past selves. That's not good standard operating procedure while attempting to protect a stable timeline…" He pointed authoritatively toward the data padd. "_Read_ that. Not only has our team shifted into an alternate universe, but they've now been forced to bring the other realm's NX-01 back in time four years. They've caught Soran, but in order to totally clean up his mess our counter-selves from 2158 are being recruited for a follow-up expedition in the year 2154."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. For all of us it appears to be déjà vu on an exponential scale. The alternate universe is aligned so closely with our own that it appears to have its own version of the Sentinel. And he's apparently just as determined to interfere with lives there as ours was here."

"You're _not_ kidding."

"No Trip, I'm not."

Pointing toward all of the data readers surrounding him, Tucker flashed a triumphant smile. "Then I'm right!" he declared with a grim smile. "If they've moved _Enterprise _back in time just four years, then there are now _two_ versions of our crew that could potentially conflict with each other. They _should_ have taken us with them – they ended up needing our help anyway."

Archer laughed at his response and the accompanying expression on Tucker's face. "I took the time to read the details. It sounds as though they need the ship as much as the crew," he replied informatively. "And the mirror _Enterprise_ won't interfere with 22nd century Starfleet as long as she remains in the Beta Quadrant." He shook his head with distinct fascination. "Do you remember when T'Pol and I used to argue over whether or not time travel was possible?"

Nodding, Trip chuckled. "Yeah. She was pretty certain that it was all theoretical mumbo jumbo."

"Well, currently the mission team led by Frank Roberts is in an alternate universe, interacting with an NX-01 crew that has traveled back in time to a point where both ship and crew already exist. Do you really think they need the two of _us_ there complicating matters even further?"

"Well, I guess when you put it _that_ way…"

"Drink your lemonade Trip," suggested Archer, rising from his seat. "And _read_ that newly updated report. If Commander Roberts needs information on the Sentinel or any of his colleagues, you and I will be able to help. The only difference is that we'll be doing it from this location."

* * *

Beta Quadrant, March 2, 2154, Aboard the mirror _NX-01 Enterprise

* * *

_

Captain Jonathan Archer sat somewhat stiffly in his command seat, a distinctly uncomfortable position that he had somehow managed to maintain for nearly ninety minutes. After a brief meeting with Captain Data, _Enterprise_ had paused just long enough for Kathryn Janeway and Benjamin Sisko to disembark before proceeding toward its next destination in the Beta Quadrant. Although the NX-01 crew had been forced to say a hasty goodbye to their new friends and trusted allies from the 24th century, Archer's growing reservations at the loss of their experience had been swiftly nullified by the appearance of his newest crewmember. Frank Roberts had donned an NX- era uniform, complete with the traditional baseball cap, and was now seated, ready and waiting at Trip's engineering station.

"I still can't believe we're actually doing this," Hoshi whispered softly to Phlox. "I mean, I thought we were at least _partially_ crazy after deciding to travel all the way to the Tholian home world. Now we're encroaching into space ruled by the Romulan Star Empire? What's next… a stop on Kronos?"

Phlox chuckled at the look on her face and reduced tone of voice. "Remember, Ensign, that day not too long ago when we were attending to business as usual battling piracy near Risa? Ever since then, things have gotten progressively more and more interesting… to say the _least_." He studied Frank Roberts curiously and pointed. "That man over there is not a _man_ at all, I'm told. He is a sentient, artificial life form – a sophisticated, positronic android to be precise." The Doctor's grin betrayed his curiosity. "I would _love_ an opportunity to scan _his_ anatomy in detail."

"I heard about him too," nodded Hoshi, trying to discern something unnatural in Roberts' expression. She was unable to, however. His skin color very closely matched that of an average humanoid Caucasian and both eyes were a very deep and potent blue. The android's dark brown hair was cut far too short for there to be an actual style, and she also noticed that the expression he wore was completely unreadable. "He looks just like your average, run-of-the-mill humanoid… normal, like one of us."

"Data has a physical appearance much more in keeping with what I would expect an android to look like," agreed Phlox. "But then, the Data that we saw was only a projection. He was never really here."

"Normal." Hoshi mouthed the word slowly and precisely with her soft, bright red lips before smiling. "I can remember when ships and people shooting at us seemed risky enough and frightened the hell out of me. Lately we've been taking greater and greater risks – and we're doing _all_ of this because of what people from our future keep telling us _will _happen unless we comply with their requests." She shook her head grimly. "I _hate_ not knowing everything. I wish they'd go back to their own century and just leave us alone to run ours."

"Based on what we've seen, along with the details Data showed T'Pol, I don't think that would be a very good idea," Phlox objected, although his tone of voice was mild. "Sooner or later, everyone needs guidance during tough times… _especially_ emotional, humanoid beings."

"Why didn't they show up during the Xindi crisis?"

"Crewman Danies _did_ show up, Hoshi. He told the Captain only enough to help us win and avoided meddling further. There is every indication that these people will do the same."

"I'm still nervous… and curious Doctor! Half of me wants to know everything, and the other half is satisfied with being a fly-on-the-wall Ensign."

"I hadn't realized until recently how much my own curiosity has been piqued during all of this," agreed Phlox. "_I_ want to know what's going on too… which is why I've been spending more and more time on the bridge." He glanced warily toward Archer. "I hope I'm not starting a bad precedent in Starfleet though… one where Doctors regularly spend more time up here than in Sickbay."

"I wouldn't worry about it Doctor," grinned Hoshi mischievously, lowering her voice even more. "I was supposed to go off-shift thirty minutes ago, but I _want_ to know what's going to happen."

Surprisingly on this occasion, Commander Tucker was flying the ship. He sat comfortably at Travis Mayweather's helm station, easing the large starship gradually closer toward the Kovar star system. The Ensign, for his part, was still nearby and steadily working. Mayweather was lying flat on the metal deck plating at Trip's feet, with most of the navigation console's metallic casing removed. Surrounding him were non-essential electronic relays, circuits and pathways that he had carefully been taking apart while the starship journeyed onward. "_Why_ am I doing all of this again Captain?" he asked suddenly.

"Because we're supposed to be _lost_ Travis," an amused Archer reminded him. "If we're not busy repairing key systems, then our presence here will look even more suspicious than it already does."

Mayweather nodded reluctantly and reached toward a nearby, kneeling maintenance technician. "I need a portable scanner," he told the Asian-faced crewman, reaching out with his left hand to accept the device. Returning his attention toward the electrical innards of the console, he shook his head sharply before waving at all the vulnerable devices he had removed and set casually on the floor. "Well, this is everything I can remove without affecting critical operations," he decided with a shrug. "Nothing actually needs repair... should I start putting everything back together?"

"Negative," replied Archer firmly. "You and Ensign Jey can continue pretending to be repairing that console until I tell you to stop. We're getting close to the target star system, so it shouldn't be long now. Just fidget a little bit with some of those circuits, but _don't_ damage any of them."

From the tactical station, Malcolm Reed smiled thinly. "Then what?" he asked inquisitively. "This time we take the words of our friends from the future on faith… with _no_ details whatsoever?"

"I know. And anyway, that's the most important part about being _bait_," Archer laughed in response. "It will be that much easier for us to play dumb… isn't that right Subcommander?" He shifted his eyes to T'Pol, who had first mind-melded with Frank Roberts and then told him everything.

"Precisely," she agreed. "We are playing the role of explorers who have experienced a severe navigation problem and strayed off course. If the Romulans – or anyone else within this system – choose to confront us, there will be no need to lie. We simply tell them we lost our way and ask them to let us go."

"With respect Subcommander, I hope you don't believe anyone is going to buy an explanation like that," countered Reed. "_Especially_ the Romulans. I can tell you from firsthand experience that they're _extremely_ territorial and not very forgiving." He glanced down at his tactical console, verifying that the starship's offensive and defensive systems were fully functional and ready to go when the Captain called for them. He had repeated the exact same procedures over and over for what seemed like a hundred times now. "I think I liked matters much better when _another_ starship served as bait and we snuck in behind the lines while they were busy confronting the enemy."

"No you don't," Archer responded, strongly disagreeing with the Lieutenant's statement. "You _hated_ having to wait aboard _Enterprise_ while the rest of us visited the Tholian home world. Admit it Malcolm, you're itching to tackle something a little more difficult than piracy."

"I suppose you're right sir," decided Reed with a small laugh. "But just standing here waiting for something to happen is more than a little bit unsettling."

_Enterprise_ spent a full hour in the vicinity of Kovar. Their initial, circular run was nearly a light year distant – a cautious course deliberately chosen to allow T'Pol an opportunity to use long range sensors and take a peek in the eventual direction they intended to steer toward. Once she was satisfied that scanners were clear, the starship nudged gradually inward more aggressively at nearly half impulse. "There are still no other vessels registering on sensors Captain," noted the Vulcan Subcommander subtly. "However, there are growing indications that someone else _is_ indeed here."

"What kind of indications?" asked Archer instantly, shifting his gaze toward Roberts.

The android shook his head in response. "I cannot respond Captain. It is best if we limit our discussion only to information that T'Pol can detect," he suggested firmly. "This starship has very likely been under observation for quite some time now, especially bridge activity."

Dr. Phlox's expression soured noticeably. "Are you suggesting that someone hidden out there has been monitoring our shipboard conversations?"

Frank Roberts nodded affirmatively. "Probably every word we speak."

"Then I guess your cover is blown Travis," decided Archer, holding up both hands and shrugging his shoulders. "You might as well start re-assembling the navigation console."

Roberts flashed his small android smile. What he knew about activity within the Kovar system was precisely the reason he had worked out a prearranged series of hand signals with Captain Archer. It was plainly obvious that someone would confront them sooner or later, but without stealth technology _Enterprise_ had undeniably been under careful scrutiny ever since it moved into the sector containing the Kovar system. Most among the bridge crew were privately feeling elevated levels of anxiety – they knew _something_ was going to happen but not exactly what or when. Therefore, as soon as their unseen opponent chose to initiate an encounter, Roberts had prepared a series of silent hand signals to let Archer know what was happening.

If he touched his left knee with his right hand, the situation they found themselves presented with was completely unknown and presented an immediate danger to ship and crew. If that were the case, then Hoshi had standing instructions to issue an immediate distress signal. The transmission would no doubt be cut off almost instantaneously, but not before the two Timeships still lurking nearby heard the cry for help. However, if Roberts touched his right shoulder with his left hand, then that would mean everything was proceeding in a manner that the android was comfortable with. Use of the second gesture would instruct the bridge crew to go ahead and proceed with their plan to pretend that they were an off course starship with malfunctioning navigation equipment.

"Sensors show thirty-four major planets and six hundred twenty-nine moons of varying sizes in the system," noted T'Pol, blue light highlighting her features as she read new telemetry. "However, initial scans indicate the gravimetric field generated by each orbiting body is varying from traditional norms."

The Captain grew immediately curious. "Why?" he asked.

"Unknown." T'Pol looked again to the sensors with mild, repressed frustration at the unusual discrepancy. "If I had to speculate, I would theorize that an _additional_ planetary-sized body is orbiting somewhere in this system. However, nothing unusual has been detected by our sensors."

Archer's thoughts drifted immediately back to the Xindi crisis from years ago, specifically to the odd arrangement of Guardian devices that had dominated what had then been known as the Delphic Expanse. "Remember the spheres in the Delphic Expanse?" he asked her. "Can you use the gravitational field measurements from the planets and moons to calculate a location for this mystery planet?"

"Affirmative." Nodding slowly, T'Pol continued working for another few minutes.

"An invisible planet?" Tucker chuckled mildly and cast a glance back toward Archer. "You've _got_ to be kidding me. Who would have enough power to hide an entire planet?"

"There is indeed another planet holding a steady orbit approximately nine point two AUs from the center of the star," continued T'Pol upon studying updated readings. "There must be a massive power system concealed somewhere inside the cloaking field. Nothing less could generate an invisible dampening field that could so completely shield a planetary-sized body from our sensors."

"_Oh there is indeed a massive power source operating within my domain_," stated a deep and booming, electronically amplified voice at the rear of the bridge. The distortion in his spoken words cleared slowly but surely as the figure of the unexpected newcomer finished materializing directly in front of the turbolift doors. "_The question that_ I have _for all_ of you," continued the extremely tall, broad-shouldered humanoid boldly, "is why your little starship has come here looking for it." As all heads on the bridge turned suddenly toward him, he folded his arms imperiously and stared directly at Archer.

The Captain sized the man up quickly, noticing that his shirt and slacks were a dark, charcoal black. The clothing appeared to be completely civilian and not military in nature, especially the alien's light gray sports jacket neatly buttoned once just above his waist. There was absolutely no sign that he carried with him anything other than the trim, electronic headset wrapped tightly around his forehead. Glittering green and red lights winked on and off intermittently from the surface of a dome-shaped attachment to the device that was cupped over his right ear. Even as the Captain watched, the pair of security guards on bridge duty turned instantly and rushed the newcomer. Bright, coruscating force fields appeared seemingly from nowhere on both sides of the intruder and easily repelled both crewmen in a brilliant flash of green.

Noting the readily apparent dangers of angering the intruder, Archer cautiously motioned for the assigned security team to back away. Both men, however, promptly retrieved phase pistols from their belts and held the weapons squarely at the ready. "We are peaceful explorers," the Captain began honestly. "Our navigation computer has been malfunctioning, so we decided to take a look at the star systems in the area until the proper repairs are completed."

"I see," nodded the strange, alien humanoid with a hearty chuckle. "For peaceful explorers, you certainly are quick enough to point weapons at me."

"Where we come from, it's considered _polite_ to announce yourself before setting foot on someone else's vessel." Archer's initial apprehension at the suddenness of the man's intrusion was fading fast. "Even your projection is considered to be an intrusion on our privacy."

"You are a ship full of Earth humans who have traveled nearly nineteen parsecs inside Romulan controlled space… territory that is _not_ your own. Apparently, Captain Jonathan Archer, you do not obey your own rules. Either that or your crew is simply _not_ very efficient at repairing damaged systems."

The depth of knowledge displayed by the intruder along with his blatant refusal to conceal what he knew about them unsettled Archer slightly, even though he outwardly displayed his usual calm and reserved demeanor. "Our maximum speed is warp five," countered the Captain coolly. "The farther outward from our home system we travel, the harder it is to obtain spare parts." He continued to study the unusual alien carefully, noticing that the irises of the man's eyes had no color – both were completely black and it was impossible to determine if he had pupils. Other than that one small discrepancy he appeared, at first glance, to be an average humanoid with very few distinctive physical features. "Right now we're admittedly in enemy space, so we've been doing our best to run silent until we can manufacture replacement components. It's not like we can simply stop at the nearest Romulan colony and ask _them_ for help."

Facing their unknown opponent, Archer watched Frank Roberts move protectively toward him with his own weapon drawn. Nevertheless, the android had briefly touched his right shoulder prior to rising from his seat. The Captain received the positive signal that matters were – at least for the moment – temporarily stable with a distinct sigh of relief. He was caught by surprise, however, when the android reached up and repeated the gesture. That was a third prearranged signal also prepared well in advance, signaling to Archer that Roberts had noticed something unexpected about their visitor. _Unexpected_, he repeated silently to himself. _This alien knows a whole lot about us and obviously wields considerable power… what could possibly be more _unexpected _than that?_

The stranger briefly touched the ear-attachment to his headset and studied Archer thoroughly. "This is a very interesting space vessel," he commented, studying the diversity of races on display amongst the surrounding bridge crew. "Your ship appears to be 22nd century in all respects, and yet your appearance here in my space comes only hours after the destruction of the Borg Collective. That _cannot_ be a coincidence." He took a few bold, imperious steps forward. "Tell me Captain Archer, do you perchance know what has happened to them?"

"Borg Collective?" Archer repeated the words quizzically, with genuine puzzlement. "I told you, we are explorers. We lost our way and decided to take a look around as long as we were in here anyway."

"I don't believe you," the intruder snapped by way of reply. Again he appeared to adjust some sort of setting on the electronic device encircling his cranium. "Under normal circumstances, I should be able to read the necessary information right out of your brain… or directly from your vessel's databanks, if I so choose." He sighed and paused for a moment, studying the active, functioning bridge stations and the crewmen and women manning them. Finally, a thought occurred to him and he smiled at T'Pol. "_You _people have discovered how to interact with and make use of _our_ network," he guessed, glancing around much more appreciatively at them. "There is _no_ other explanation for the presence of a dampening field capable of blocking my efforts to obtain information from you. Only the Preserver network protocols deployed by another consumer could deny me access to your private data."

"You appear to know a great deal about us," stated Archer bluntly, indirectly attempting to change the subject. "Perhaps you could share with us some information about yourself."

"Be _careful_ what you wish for Jonathan Archer," the intruder responded with a sharp grin, turning his head repeatedly as he studied the various faces among the bridge crew, sizing up each one of them. "Which of you is operating the interface that connects this vessel with subspace?" he persisted, pausing to stare directly at T'Pol. "Your Vulcan is obviously in charge of the ship's sensor and science equipment… perhaps it is _you_."

"We are willing to open diplomatic relations with you," said the Captain, taking a protective step in front of T'Pol in an attempt to block their strange visitor from approaching her. Frank Roberts followed close behind, his phaser still in hand. "Unless you plan to reciprocate, I would appreciate it if you would leave us in peace."

"Much as I would like to, I'm afraid that I cannot comply with your request," replied their unknown adversary with mild disappointment. "You are obviously _involved_ in whatever plot has been launched to disrupt my work with the Borg. As if that isn't annoying enough, you have gone out of your way to travel to this location and intrude on my territory." He stood there, next to the empty Captain's chair, studying Archer and T'Pol thoroughly. "But you are correct Captain – my manners to this point have admittedly been terrible." He bowed slightly in Archer's direction. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to detain your vessel indefinitely, but I can at least do so in a civilized manner. Please allow me to introduce myself... I am most commonly known as the _Scholar_."

* * *

Beta Quadrant, March 4, 2154, Aboard the _Relativity

* * *

_

Thomas Joseph Ducane's brief nap, taken reluctantly in the hopes of temporarily postponing fatigue, was abruptly interrupted after only two hours by an incoming call from his First Officer. After receiving Lt. Commander Ingram's page, he rose from his bed and ordered an ice cold glass of water from the wall's replicator. He paused only long enough to down a couple of mouthfuls before recycling the glass and donning the gray and black, streamlined uniform jacket lying across the top of a nearby chair. Then he exited out into the adjoining corridor, feeling surprisingly refreshed by even so fleeting a chance to rest. He caught the nearest turbolift and snapped out his usual, terse "_Bridge_" request that would inevitably propel the lift to its proper destination.

_As Captain of a Federation starship, you either learn to work with minimal sleep or you look for another job_, he remembered an elderly, Academy professor telling him.

Over the years, Ducane had found the statement to be primarily true – the farther up the chain of command he rose, the less he tended to sleep during an average day. Experience had taught him that the professor's prophetic observation could also be somewhat deceptive. Although Ducane's time on the bridge and private responsibilities often consumed multiple shifts, he was rarely busy the _entire_ time he remained on-duty. After all, his Timeship and its mirror counterpart had been waiting patiently for several hours in the hopes that the NX-01's presence near the Kovar star would provoke a response. The Captain had learned how to meditate silently during his time in Starfleet – silently reviewing his thoughts and ordering them. Even as he took the short ride to the bridge, he was technically resting his mind mentally using a practiced technique that was almost Vulcan in nature.

"Welcome back sir," stated Ensign Murry crisply as Ducane stepped out onto the bridge.

"Report," he requested instantly, descending the short flight of stairs in front of him and approaching Ingram's helm station. He placed his hands firmly on his hips and contented himself with watching her work busily at the main operations console.

"_Enterprise_ missed its check in point," Jessica Ingram replied with her usual precision. "As ordered, I activated our long range sensors and have so far detected nothing… not even debris." She turned slightly in her chair and smiled warily. "It would appear as though we've gotten a nibble on our bait."

"Indeed." Ducane harrumphed loudly and nodded in agreement. "If Frank Roberts has successfully tricked the Sentinel into moving the NX-01 inside his sphere of influence, we've got significantly _more_ than a nibble. We might actually have a legitimate chance of pulling this off."

"There's more sir."

He smiled at Ingram dryly. "There's _always_ more, Jess. What have you found out?"

She paused for a moment before responding. "It might help matters considerably if you heard it directly from the source," she decided. "I've been coordinating our sensor telemetry with the bridge crew on the mirror _Relativity_. _Their_ Jessica Ingram has identified and isolated some rather interesting details." Her fingers danced across her console and the large viewscreen in front of them flipped images – shifting away from a view of empty space to an image of the other Timeship's bridge. Ducane shook his head with mild surprise as he realized how quickly he was becoming comfortable interacting with a virtually identical, alternate version of his crew.

Aboard the other vessel, Lieutenant Ingram turned toward them to acknowledge her counterpart's hail. "_Have you analyzed my latest data transmission?_" she asked curiously.

"I have," acknowledged Captain Ducane's version of Ingram. "My conclusion is the same as yours. However, the Captain just came back on-duty… I'd appreciate it if you would fill him in."

"Tell me _what?_" The mild irritation in his voice escaped from Ducane before he could repress the emotional reaction. He chalked it up to understandable, mild crabbiness initiated by the unexpected interruption of his promised four hour nap. Folding his arms slowly and patiently in front of him, he waited more calmly for a response.

"_Frank Roberts left behind a treasure trove of data regarding the Preserver network and its operational protocols_," began mirror Ingram, watching him cautiously. "_Since the origin point of the interference with Borg vinculum communications has been positively identified as the Kovar system, I decided to conduct a detailed study in the hopes of discovering more specifically which areas of the Collective our unseen opponent has been trying to influence_."

"In the process, I… uhm… _she_… well… _we_ discovered something completely unexpected," continued a very excited Lt. Commander Ingram. "There are _two_ distinct sets of signals emerging from that star system. It isn't just one RI-CAD sending and receiving transmissions from the network."

Ducane's mind exploded with a whirlwind of possibilities upon hearing the astonishing revelation. "Let me get this straight Jess." He looked from _his_ Ingram to the duplicate on the screen and then back again. "Jessicas." Then he chuckled at the expressions on their faces before his mood once again grew serious. "Are you telling me that there's more than _one_ Preserver in that system?"

"_Affirmative_." On the main viewscreen, the mirror Lt. Ingram flashed a smile of appreciation at his obvious interest. She had been working with added inspiration since first seeing her alternate self wearing a First Officer's uniform. "_Our engineers added several enhancements to fully automate Frank Roberts' link prior to his transfer to the NX-01. They had to hard-code in a unique identification protocol in order for him to fully access subspace network resources. Each protocol operates on a slightly different subspace frequency, so on a hunch I checked the transmissions coming from Kovar. There are definitely _two_ very distinct, separate RI-CAD devices in operation near Kovar_."

Behind her, Captain Data eased into view. "_While we were waiting, my officers managed to retrieve the schematics for the device Commander Roberts is using to link himself into subspace_," the android informed them. "_I have had a similar model replicated, and our engineering team has implanted it in my head. It now requires only a few modifications prior to first use_."

"You'll need your own authorization code," pointed out Lt. Commander Ingram.

"_We are working on that as well_," Data noted in response. "_As you know, Commander Roberts has several accounts available to him that he was able to access from your vessel as well as this one. I have made certain that our Timeship has already contributed a substantial amount of energy from our temporal core using one of his lower level accounts, and we expect to receive full access privileges as a reward for that gift. Once we are certain that all resources have been made available to us, I will request that the origin point of our command sets be shifted from the _Relativity_'s main computer to the neural link in my own transceiver_."

Ducane nodded with approval. "And then…?" he asked curiously. "I have a few ideas of my own, but technically this is _your_ universe." He held up his hands and shrugged, feeling somewhat helpless.

"_With two Preservers on the loose near Kovar, Frank Roberts will almost certainly require backup_," mused Data thoughtfully. "_I believe it would be best for both our Timeships to proceed immediately to Kovar and provide all necessary assistance to the crew of the NX-01. We sent them there, after all, and can still execute our plan as intended with a few minor tweaks_."

"Roberts won't know about any changes we make," noted Ducane in a cautioning tone. "He is most likely unaware that he's facing more than _one_ RI-CAD equipped Preserver."

"_As soon as I receive notification that my access to subspace matches the capabilities of Commander Roberts, I will contact him covertly using the network and provide him with an update to our original plan_," promised Captain Data. "_Does that satisfy your reservations?_"

"It does," Ducane agreed with a confident smile. "Contact us when you're ready."

The image of the android nodded professionally. "_We will_." As soon as he spoke the words, the viewscreen shifted instantly back to its view of open space.

Ingram studied the Captain, noticing that the lines of concern on his face had returned. "I take it your interview with Soran did not go well," she guessed. "With an interrupted nap also factored in, I think even I would be a bit grumpy in your shoes."

"The Doctor is a deeply disturbed individual," replied Ducane. "He was pushed by circumstances beyond his control down a path many of us would never voluntarily choose to go. And once he walked that path for a few years, an awful part of him that had previously been dormant emerged in his psyche and began to flourish." His mind flashed briefly back to the earlier conversation. "Soran began living as a man whose soul was constantly tortured by his past, and the only way he could temporarily push aside his pain was to evade by pursuing the Nexus. Once he was copied by the Sentinel, his compulsive nature focused on revenge. After that, I doubt it took long before he began to actively enjoy being evil."

His First Officer continued watching him curiously. "So what are we supposed to do with him… give him back to the Preservers?"

Ducane's expression remained stolid but determined. "No. We're going to find a way to heal his pain," he decided firmly. "And we're going to do it using our own technology."

* * *

Beta Quadrant, March 4, 2154, In orbit of Kovar

* * *

Once he was fully satisfied that _Enterprise_ had been successfully transported and secured within the _Dokimasia_'s cloaking field, the Scholar retracted his isomorphic projection from the Starfleet vessel's bridge and glanced up from his seated position within his own, lavishly decorated personal chambers. He rose to his feet with a smug, satisfied smile and signaled his colleague that he had acquired new information. It took a few minutes before he received a response, so he used the time to interact with the massive starship's fully sentient, artificially intelligent computer system. "Briea, are there any other space going vessels in the immediate vicinity?"

"_Negative_," responded a soft, feminine voice that seemed to float down around him on all sides. "_There has been some occasional, intermittent sensor activity, but its source remains well beyond the maximum range of this vessel's scanning systems_."

"Interesting," decided the Scholar with a deep frown. "I do believe we have located at least a link to our Borg problem… these humanoids traveling aboard this _Enterprise_ are at least peripherally involved."

"_I would tend to agree sir_."

"What can you tell me about their vessel?"

"_Little more than you already know. It is a 22__nd__ century NX- class starship constructed by an organization called Starfleet on a planet known as Earth. There is a dampening field surrounding the vessel generated by our own network, which means that we are bound by privacy protocols from intruding beyond its outer boundary._"

"I successfully placed an isomorphic projection on their bridge."

"_You were able to do so because someone _allowed_ you to. In this particular century, humans should have no knowledge of our subspace network, and their ability to somehow make use of it – at least for now – remains an unexplained mystery_."

"What about temporal tampering?" wondered the Scholar curiously. "Is there evidence of that?"

"_Affirmative. Shortly after the destruction of the Borg uni-matrix, there was a 79.84225 percent rewrite of Alpha, Beta and Gamma Quadrant history. However, all of my equations relating to the timeline alterations in question are in total conflict… a complete paradox_."

The Scholar poured himself a glass full of an amber liquid from a large, transparent pitcher setting on his desk. "Explain please," he requested, downing the contents of the glass in a single gulp. Still thirsty, he reached for a refill.

"_I have only a partial explanation. An analysis of the long range sensor pulses that I have detected are consistent with 29__th__ century Starfleet technology_." The sentient computer paused briefly to allow him to digest the new information before continuing. "_However, Starfleet in its present form did not even _exist_ prior to the attacks on the Borg Collective… Earth's entire history appears to have changed from a planet conquered by the Borg into a flourishing society that eventually forms a United Federation of Planets. This is just one of _thousands_ of examples of the endless alterations that have been made. Our network is still processing historical updates to its archives..._"

"Well _someone_ has interfered directly with our effort to hand over complete control of this galaxy to the Borg," nodded the Scholar bitterly. "Whoever pulled it off has managed to change history in this galaxy before we could."

"_With respect, sir, this vessel's efforts were implemented surreptitiously and would have consumed a great deal of time prior to reaching their conclusion. Our unknown adversary has acted in a much more direct manner and with a significantly greater impact_."

Unexpectedly, the elderly, white-haired Scholar received the affirmative response he had been waiting for. "Keep studying the data Briea," he told her firmly. "I will return to learn more after I have consulted with the Sentinel." He promptly transported himself directly into the other Preserver's personal chambers. It was clear from the expression on his friend's face that he too had also been working on their sudden, unexpected Borg dilemma.

"Too much has changed too quickly for us to correct without directly interfering in this galaxy's affairs," snapped the Sentinel harshly. "In order to put things back as they were, we would have to go out and begin actively interfering with matters and allowing life forms in this galaxy to discover our presence." He glared angrily at the Scholar. "_How_ could all this have happened so suddenly?"

"I have discovered a clue and a possible answer," declared the Scholar firmly. "A space going vessel from the planet Earth has appeared in our space, claiming to have veered off course. It is crewed by a diverse group of humanoids from this time frame."

The Sentinel took a moment to activate his RI-CAD headset and retrieve the necessary historical details before responding. "I hope they don't expect us to believe that an NX- class, warp _five_ starship has ventured into the Beta Quadrant purely by accident?" He scoffed at the mere possibility with complete disbelief. "Clearly this is related to the unexpected destruction of the Collective."

"Clearly." A malevolent smile crossed the Scholar's features. "With history altered, it is completely understandable that several of the races now spared from Borg enslavement would evolve to a point where they could detect our presence." He waited delightedly to view the reaction of the other at his additional news. "What I have yet to determine is how this 22nd century starship has managed to access and make use of our subspace resources."

The Sentinel's eyes widened. "_What?_"

"That was my initial reaction as well," continued the other Preserver, clearly pleased by his colleague's astonishment. "I am unable to access the necessary information we need – either from the people or the database on board that starship. They have expertly deployed a dampening field and made use of network protocols to protect their privacy. Only someone very well versed in the operation of our subspace resources could achieve so successful an outcome."

"The _Council_ was already extremely _wary_ about our efforts here in this galaxy," thundered the Sentinel angrily. "This is all the excuse that they will need to _ruin_ us and confiscate our memberships."

"Agreed. Would you like to review Briea's data regarding the Earth ship?"

"No," snapped the Sentinel, clearly more agitated than he had been since he had first discovered the rapidly expanding aftermath of Soran's initial assault on the Borg Collective. "Direct intervention on our part is a clear violation of the Council's standing orders. _You_ have chosen to confront and capture residents of this galaxy, so I will leave it up to you as to how best to handle them."

"Sentinel, _these_ people _arrogantly_ flew into our space and obviously know much about what has been going on. Would it not be prudent to investigate their involvement…?"

"_You_ take care of it. I've already got _plenty_ to do…. somehow I have to find a way to explain this travesty to the Council. We're going to need to call in _all_ of our favors if we are to survive. There is no easy way to reverse what has been done, and those who have supported us in the past will no doubt begin abandoning us in droves." He shook his head with obvious disgust. "I will also begin preparing an escape plan, in case the two of us need to disappear in a hurry."

"Very well. However, you will soon see that the Earth ship _is_ indeed involved."

"I really don't care _who_ is involved at this point," snarled the Sentinel, running a hand nervously through his gray hair as he continued busily working. "What has been done cannot easily be undone. We must fix this or run… unfortunately on this particular occasion there are no other options."

The Scholar fought back a wave of sudden anger and chose not to reply. Instead, he tapped his right ear with the fingertips of one hand and vanished as swiftly as he had appeared. _The Council will not rest until they have at least one scapegoat_, he thought furtively. _I seriously doubt that your escape plans will include room for me._.

* * *

Preserver star cluster 112, Council of the Elders, 5.2 million years in the future

* * *

Jonathan Archer and Charles "Trip" Tucker arrived in a spacious communications room located in a large complex on the outer hull of the Dyson sphere that served as their home. They had each been notified by a brief Preserver communications data "squirt" that something was up, and that their project was about to change significantly. "Do you have any idea what this is all about?" Tucker asked Archer as they waited in the center of the large, circular room. A variety of electrical systems were attached to the primarily white surrounding walls, but there were no on-duty personnel.

"No," replied Archer apprehensively. "I received a simple request to show up here and wait."

"So did I," nodded Tucker, his mood souring. "Do you think they're bringing Soran _here?_"

"If they do, I hope they lock him up this time. Whatever is ultimately decided, it is unlikely he will ever again be trusted with anything of consequence. Not after _this_…"

Fortunately it didn't take long for the nature of their summons to become clear. As the two men waited patiently, four columns of shimmering green energy appeared in front of them. Jonathan Archer watched with relief the instant he recognized the familiar forms of Jean-Luc Picard, James Kirk, Benjamin Sisko, and Kathryn Janeway. Each of them materialized inside a swirl of cascading energy. The four of them immediately moved forward, walking away from the central transport site and allowing thirteen additional pillars of energy to shimmer into existence. Erika Hernandez and her support crew from _Columbia_ were the next group to return from the distant past. Their smiles of satisfaction were recognizable even amidst the blazing emerald energy surges transporting them far across space and time.

"What a _relief!_" decided Tucker with a wide smile. "It looks as though our team members have been returned to us, Captain." He studied the small group of Starfleet personnel curiously, noticing that not everyone was present. "Most of them, anyway. Where is Commander Roberts?"

"He has a few loose ends to tie up in the alternate universe," James Kirk offered by way of an explanation. "With the capture of Dr. Soran, our involvement there was no longer needed." He paused, inhaling cautiously and placing a hand on his stomach. "My ship's Doctor used to think the use of a standard transporter system was unsettling," he commented idly. "He should try traveling through subspace… _that_ was not exactly pleasant."

Chuckling lightly, Janeway put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We started out in the _other_ universe's network," she informed him. "That system had to shift us back into _this_ realm before we could make the trip back into the distant future. So this wasn't exactly your average, everyday transport."

"Well, _we've_ been trying to hold things together while you were gone," noted Tucker dourly. "It hasn't been easy trying to keep on schedule with our Guild contract, using only minimal staff. And now you're telling us that everyone is back _except_ our leader?"

"_I_ have been assigned to fill Frank Roberts role on the Council until he returns," stated Picard. "The contract you speak of designates me as his official back up."

Kirk rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm still wondering how you managed to pull that off," he decided with a wry smile. "I spent the longest time of any of us serving in Starfleet… shouldn't Roberts' choice as his successor logically have been _me?_"

"Perhaps the multiple black marks on your record gave him pause," suggested Picard slyly. "And several of us could also challenge your claim on seniority."

"_What_ black marks?" Kirk appeared genuinely irritated by Picard's comments. "I have a chest literally filled with Starfleet medals… ehrm… well, at least the _original_ me does."

"There was that time you were demoted from Admiral back to Captain," stated Benjamin Sisko crisply. "I'm told that kind of thing stays with a man for the rest of his career."

"Technically the incident you speak of was considered a downward _promotion_," Kirk insisted emphatically. "Space exploration has always been my first love, especially commanding a starship. The top brass always knew that." He flashed Sisko an equally annoyed look. "You may be from the same century, but that certainly doesn't obligate you to side with _him_."

Janeway chose to ignore the usual, petty bickering between her male colleagues. "Suffice it to say that we're back and ready to help," she told Archer and Tucker. "That's all you need to know for now." Her gaze shifted to Erika Hernandez and the men and women flanking her on both sides. Most of her crew was unfamiliar with the casual rapport that had formed between the Captains and therefore easily intimidated by the sight of them arguing.

"It's okay everyone," Erika stated reassuringly, glancing first to Sheila Wakefield, then to Joshua Andrews and finally to the rest of her team. "They're all just joking around to ease tension… I think."

"Captain Janeway, with respect… I don't think you realize how far behind we've fallen," continued Tucker. "We _need_ Commander Roberts and his android miracles."

"If _six_ experienced starship Captains can't keep your project running efficiently at full steam, then it's fair to say that the presence of one more set of hands wouldn't make that much of a difference." Janeway smiled with amusement at the engineer. "Relax Mr. Tucker, things will go better now."

"There may be six Starfleet Captains, but I'd like to point out that _I'm_ the only _original_ model," Hernandez declared with obvious pride. She spoke up rather unexpectedly and caught Janeway totally by surprise. "Remember, my crew and I have technically been orphaned by time." Around her, several members of her crew nodded in full agreement. Most of them recognized the light-hearted banter.

Hernandez's comment drew an amused laugh out of Kirk and a loud harrumph of annoyance from Picard. Sisko shook his head with disbelief. "We are a 99.9999614 percent match with our original selves," the former Deep Space Nine commander boldly informed Hernandez. "If _that_ isn't as close to an identical copy as possible, then what is?"

"I guess 100 percent would be closer," Erika decided, folding her arms and smiling triumphantly.

"_Hey!_" snapped Archer as he studied the five of them more than a little irritably. "Trip and I have been working pretty hard during your absence. Jean-Luc, why don't you _take_ command of this… this rapidly deteriorating situation and put everyone to work," he suggested. "Otherwise, _I'm_ going to continue running things and I'm fairly certain that you won't approve of my mood."

All five of the Captains in front of him stood their ground. "Don't you two want to see our _surprise_ first?" asked Hernandez after a moment, her eyebrows rising and falling with her teasing tone of voice. "We were working hard too – and we located a _new_ team member."

Both Archer and Tucker exchanged a pair of brief, understandably confused glances. "What surprise?" they asked, with both men speaking the words in complete unison.

The five Captains surrounding them all smiled appreciatively in response. "As Erika has pointed out, she and her crew have been effectively 'orphaned by time'," began Sisko. "You know their story… you both know why they are here. It would have been wrong for Data to leave them to die on that lonely planet in the Gamma Quadrant. All of them received a fresh start and have been of much better use to us here."

"That's why we made an extra stop during our mission to the past," added Kirk. "We spent a lot of time chasing Soran through the centuries, and during our study of Starfleet history we located another person that history has treated unfairly."

Archer studied them suspiciously. "Who?"

Picard chuckled and then waved a hand in response. Another glittering, cylindrical blaze of transporter energy swirled unexpectedly into existence at the very center of the room. The sparkling particles of energy coalesced quickly, and the image of a petite, attractive woman began to take shape. She had a wide smile on her face and neatly combed, shoulder-length straight brown hair. Archer didn't immediately recognize the newcomer, but Tucker was already running directly toward her and shouting excitedly at the top of his lungs. "_Lizzie!_" he cried out with pure and total joy at the sight of his sister. For years he had considered her long since dead – just another bloody statistic from the initial Xindi attack on Earth. "Elizabeth… Oh my God, Lizzie… it's really _you!_"

Brother and sister wrapped their arms around each other, but it was Tucker who pulled her tightly close and hugged her hardest as tears of pure joy ran down his cheeks. "These people rescued me right before the attack and told me everything that was going to happen," she told him with equal excitement. "They apparently need an architect's skills here in the future and asked me if I wanted to see you again." She shrugged her shoulders and laughed. "Given the obvious alternative, I immediately accepted their offer."

"Elizabeth… I can't believe it! I _never_ thought I was going to see you again," he told her truthfully, temporarily pulling back just far enough to study her attractive, freckle-faced features. "This all feels so surreal… so weird…"

Janeway elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "You're in Starfleet, Mr. Tucker. _Weird_ is part of the job."

"Now I don't _need_ to be in your Captain's club," said Tucker to Archer. "You have your family, Captain Hernandez and crew have each other, and I've got _Elizabeth!"_ His enthusiastic smile and wide-eyed boyish elation was truly inspiring to watch. He leaned back suddenly, remembering. "Although, technically, I'm not _the_ Trip Tucker you last saw." He glanced at Picard, then to Kirk, and finally to Sisko. "As these folks have been pointing out, I'm only a 99.9999614 copy of your real brother."

"You look pretty good to me," Elizabeth replied, smiling warmly in response. Tucker pulled her close to him again and breathed a prolonged sigh of relief.

_For awhile, he never thought he was going to stop hugging her.

* * *

_

_**Author's Notes:** Okay, there are a couple of things that I absolutely could NOT resist during the creation of this chapter..._

_**1.** When I watched the sequel to "Jurassic Park", I remember laughing out loud when I first saw the TWO T-Rexs. I said to myself, that is SOOOOO Steven Spielberg. The first movie thrilled us with one, so this time he brought us TWO. Thus the things we read and watch do influence us, but as an author I still prefer for things to make logical sense... even over-the-top moments. _

_**a.** So it made sense to me that a parallel, nearly identical universe would have another "Dark Sentinel". But I also semi-intentionally introduced the Scholar earlier in this story so that - if I wanted to get completely crazy - I could have TWO surprise villains near the conclusion to this story. Hah hah, and lo and behold... I had the guts to do it! :-) _

_**b. **The Chapter title may be "Strange Bedfellows", but when you pause to think about it, the Sentinel and the Scholar DO have quite a bit in common._

_**2.** In "Dark Archon" I remember commenting about the Chapter where the five starship Captains all got together in one room. Some of them were admittedly near-exact copies, but even for a Trek story that kind of scene was pretty much unprecedented._

_**a.** I titled that chapter "Never Before And Never Again", obviously because I could not envision ever writing five full-length Trek stories._

_**b.** But things changed in a hurry and I have continued to write, so I am pleased to say that it looks as though I technically LIED by choosing the title of that Chapter. Did you notice... SIX Captains this time, all in one room and arguing with each other!_

_**3. **Finally, I am a person who likes happy endings. Or at least, mostly happy endings. Yes there is tragedy in life and TV and movies these days like to focus on some really dark stuff. But I grew up during times when heroes like Luke Skywalker and Superman ruled the screen, inspiring us all to stand up against even seemingly impossible odds. Again, it made reasonable sense to me that the mission team would recruit Trip's sister while in the past, knowing that she was going to perish anyway. Everyone on Frank Roberts' team has someone familiar in their life now, except for - ironically - Frank Roberts.  
_

_**4.** Sending the Captains back to the Council now that Soran is in custody also makes sense. There are just too many HUGE egos in this rather elite group, and I reluctantly concluded that two Timeships _Relativity_, one NX-01, one Frank Roberts, and a pair of Datas would be sufficient to handle the Sentinel and the Scholar._

_**5. **Obviously, there's still a bit more to tell. Stay tuned!_


	23. Blaze Of Glory

_**Author's Notes: **If you're looking for a way to get a better concept of what the _Dokimasia_ "planet pusher" looks like, there's a link to a picture file on my profile page in the "Dark Archon" story area._

* * *

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Blaze Of Glory

* * *

**

Beta Quadrant, March 2, 2154, Aboard the mirror _NX-01 Enterprise

* * *

_

"Would you _look_ at the size of that ship," muttered Trip Tucker as _Enterprise_ maintained a stationary position nearly 50,000 kilometers away from the _Dokimasia_'s primary, outer hull. Just prior to terminating his isomorphic projection, the Scholar had instantly transported the entire starship inside the cloaking field protecting the alien planet pusher and its test planet. Once they finished materializing within the shield's outer perimeter, the bridge crew could instantly see everything that had previously remained totally hidden from sight. Tucker took a few tentative steps closer to the viewscreen, intently scrutinizing the dark, spine-like structure of the alien ship and the massive engine sphere attached at its farthest end. "It looks like a massive city floating in the vacuum of space," he declared with obvious admiration. "I'd love to get a look at the inside."

Admittedly they were all viewing the massive starship from an awkward angle. _Enterprise_ currently hovered just slightly above and thirty degrees to port of the _Dokimasia_, dwarfed by its enormous size. From the front of the Sentinel's gargantuan starship sprouted four fully extended, planet-grabbing claws. Behind those massive clamps, the vast, sprawling length of the vessel stretched far into the distance, eventually terminating at its primary connection point with the sphere. The ship was a truly astonishing sight to behold for a Starfleet crew from any century, but for Archer's people it was an utterly captivating, astonishing discovery. There was complete silence as everyone on the bridge took a moment to study the sinister curves and angles, completely enthralled by a design that was totally alien to them.

T'Pol worked swiftly and efficiently while they watched, initially scanning the "M" class planet floating innocently below both ships. Massive oceans and lakes filled the void between a few dozen smaller continents scattered around two larger ones. Updated telemetry swiftly reassured her that there was nothing out of the ordinary taking place on its surface. Satisfied, she promptly redirected a full sensor sweep in the general direction of the Preserver starship, watching as statistics rapidly began to pour across her reader. "Length: 495 kilometers," she announced. "Average diameter of the engineering sphere: 98 kilometers. Average height for the rest of the vessel: 45 kilometers…" she trailed off and shot a quick glance in Archer's direction. "Comander Tucker is correct. That ship is enormous…"

Holding position next to Archer's chair, Frank Roberts nodded upon hearing information that was by now entirely familiar to him. "That class of starship is more commonly known as a planet pusher," he stated informatively. "It is a smaller version of the Preservers' most popular, versatile space vessel. The primary use of this starship is to position planetary bodies in a variety of favorable orbital slots around stable stars… they can adjust the orbit to match the specifics of each sun. The engine core contains a massive chain of Omega-molecules… power on a scale that your sensors cannot totally measure."

T'Pol eyed him warily. "I have been trying to do exactly that, so far without success."

"Much of their power source is hidden behind dampening fields." Roberts gestured briefly toward the viewscreen with his right hand. "Most of the rectangular and dome-like structures you see fitted along the length of the spine are in fact smaller, detachable space vessels. Each holds a humanoid crew possessing the specialty skills needed to terra-form specific areas of a planet. While attached, the smaller vessels serve as a home for the Guild workers. During times when they are disconnected, they land on nearby planets and moons to function as a work environment." He glanced toward the shining curve of the planetary atmosphere clearly visible in the lower left corner of the viewscreen. "This particular planet is used to train new recruits and practice a variety of newly developed ecological techniques."

"Then the rumors are true? The Preservers are capable of transforming dead worlds into fully, habitable ones?" T'Pol was obviously impressed, and her left eyebrow soared to prove it.

"Oh yes," confirmed Roberts with an amused smirk. "In fact, within empty solar systems that lack planetary bodies to work with, they can construct entirely new planets from scratch." He shifted his gaze from a still speechless Jonathan Archer toward the Vulcan Subcommander. "Remember that map you put up of the Kovar system? Any one of its four asteroid belts can provide the crew of the _Dokimasia_ with the raw materials necessary to manufacture new planets. I'm told that those who have observed the process find it to be quite remarkable."

Doctor Phlox's amazement equaled Tucker and T'Pol's. "If _that_, as you say, is indeed a _smaller _version of their vessels…" his voice trailed off momentarily. "…then _what_ in blazes," he declared finally, "are the _larger_ ships used for?"

"If necessary," stated Roberts, "the Preservers have the capability to refuel and reignite dying stars. A yellow star at the end of its natural life, for example, will gradually begin to cool. Many of them – over the passage of time – will eventually complete their transformation into a red giant. As you might imagine, that kind of evolution is very hard on habitable planets. Many cultures lacking in space travel have been completely killed off by a star's prolonged period of instability. Where and when possible, the Preservers locate these problem suns. They add new matter to the core of the dying star, stabilize its nuclear fusion and can prolong its life for several billion additional years."

"Unbelievable," Tucker commented, studying the sharp, rectangular structures and long, curving lines covering every available inch of the _Dokimasia_. "How many of these vessels are there?"

Hesitating slightly, Roberts decided to err on the side of too little information with this particular subject. "In the universe where I come from, you don't want to know," he said with an amused chuckle. "Here in your universe… well, you don't want to know…"

"Yes we do," Hoshi decided, contradicting the android's last statement.

He smiled in her general direction. "My lips are sealed, Ensign."

"This entire area has been hidden behind a massive cloaking field," pointed out T'Pol. "The diameter stretches across at least 2 million kilometers. The power needed for this is…"

"Astonishing?" Roberts finished the sentence for her. "Appearances can be deceiving, Subcommander. The ships and planet are the only objects here that need to be hidden. Everything else is a simple dampening field designed to fool the sensor systems of passing ships."

She glanced back at her data reader for a moment. "They cannot, however, hide the gravitational changes caused by the presence of so large a planetary body."

"Why would they need to?" The android shrugged casually. "Most ship commanders who pass by a lifeless system like this one would tend to ignore it – they would never even think to scrutinize ordinary readings so closely. That's one of the major reasons this star was deliberately selected in the first place. Passing ships are in a hurry to attend to their own business, so they never even notice the minor anomalous readings. Those who do are… dealt with."

"_We_ noticed." Archer stated wryly, speaking for the first time since their arrival. He shifted his gaze away from the main viewscreen and studied Roberts carefully while silently pondering everything he had observed to this point.

"Yes. Species who notice the proper clues inevitably attract the attention of the Preservers," the android agreed. "They are always on the lookout for other space-faring races to blend with their own culture and assist with the limitless work they have committed themselves to."

"What if we choose _no_t to join them?" suggested the Captain.

"Normally you would also be… _dealt_ with," Roberts pointed out. "Obviously, in this galaxy and this particular century, renegade Preservers like the Sentinel cannot allow you to leave with knowledge of their presence here." His lip curled just slightly. "Fortunately, on this occasion we are fully prepared and ready to oppose him. Last time we were not." The android opened his mouth to say more…

* * *

…_when his head suddenly snapped back as though its outer, metallic casing had been jolted by high-voltage electricity. An increased surge of positronic activity in his brain followed, along with the automatic activation of his neural, subspace transceiver_.

"Commander," _he heard Archer say with some measure of concern, although the Captain's face and words were extremely distorted. It seemed as though images and sounds were inexplicably floating toward him through a filtered, hazy pool of fog_. "Is everything all right?"

_Holding up a cautious hand to signal that matters were under control, Roberts turned to face Archer_. "Please stand by," he stated informatively. "I believe I am receiving some sort of subspace transmission." _The sophisticated central processing unit in his skull continued accepting and translating the new information that he was receiving. Vaguely, Frank Roberts recognized one familiar presence linking up with his consciousness, along with at least two others that, at least for now, remained completely alien to him. Rather than communicating while the NX- crew continued to ask questions, the android closed his eyes and transported himself instantly away from Archer's bridge and into the deep, overlapping folds of subspace._.

_Although he had used the subspace network heavily in the past, Roberts had never chosen to personally visit the hidden realm before – a place filled with a multitude of potential discoveries but mostly with unexplained mysteries. Subspace was the unseen 'glue' that held the surrounding universes together, and yet its folds were primarily fluidic and constantly in motion. Everything was completely dark – although the neural link in the android's skull could sense countless transmissions flowing back and forth, he could not visually see anything except a pervasive, all encompassing darkness. Floating gently with his arms extended, Frank Roberts focused his attention more specifically on the subspace signal that had initially attracted his attention_.

_CAPTAIN DATA:_ **garbled… static** … **can you hear me Commander ROBERTS?**

_The electronic presence of his friend was not quite as strong as he remembered from previous transmissions, but the transmission definitely originated from a Data-class android_. **I can hear you Data**_, he acknowledged swiftly_. **What IS different about you? Something is not RIGHT**.

_CAPTAIN DATA:_ **chuckle? I am not your usual subspace FRIEND on this occasion. I believe that YOU know me best as CAPTAIN Data, commander of the mirror RELATIVITY**.

_That single piece of knowledge made sense to Roberts and explained away the irregularities he had detected. Still floating gently in the midst of a subspace current, his thoughts abruptly accelerated to high speed as Captain Data finished fine-tuning the connection between them_. **I guess I should congratulate YOU**_, decided the Commander firmly_. **It appears as THOUGH you have been busy while we were AWAY and successfully installed your own PERSONAL neural link**.

_CAPTAIN DATA:_ **Unfortunately, I had no other choice. Our crew has detected evidence that there are at least two separate RI-CAD devices in operation within the Kovar system. This discovery almost certainly means that YOU are about to confront MORE than one Preserver. The SENTINEL is almost assuredly in this system, but HE is not working alone**.

**I had some suspicions**_, admitted Roberts as his naturally inquisitive nature kicked in full throttle._ **It was not the Sentinel who SHOWED up and confronted **_**Enterprise**_**… the Scholar is apparently the source of the second RI-CAD signal and is obviously allied in some way with the Sentinel**.

_CAPTAIN DATA:_ **That is why we are moving both Timeships toward the KOVAR system to join up with you. No doubt we must now coordinate our EFFORTS and simultaneously take both Preservers into custody. With only a FEW minor modifications, I believe our ORIGINAL plan should still work**.

_The sensation that they were not alone persisted_. **WHO else is here?** _Roberts wondered curiously_. **I can sense ADDITIONAL personalities sharing this link with us**.

_BRIEA:_ **My name is Briea. I am the artificial, SENTIENT personality in charge of all automated shipboard operations aboard the **_**Dokimasia**_**.**

_KALITA RAMA:_** And I am Dr. Kalita Rama, although you probably know me best as the BORG Queen. Your friend Data recently liberated me from my physical BODY, restored my memories from centuries ago and ASKED me to join the Preservers' subspace realm. Since my PEOPLE now have no Collective to TURN to and are essentially helpless, I agreed to his TERMS**.

**Interesting**, _responded Roberts_. **We are able to communicate with Briea. I take it that THIS version of the Sentinel has LEFT all of his subspace operations tagged as 'read only' and completely open to scrutiny, as did his counterpart in MY universe**.

_CAPTAIN DATA:_ **Affirmative. The Sentinel is confident that any EFFORT to defeat him will fail, and therefore intentionally allows access to all of his telemetry in order to TEMPT both his enemies and the curious.**

_Roberts took a brief, minute fraction of a second to silently ponder the new information_. **I understand why you would involve BRIEA in this matter**_, he replied finally_. **However, how can a disembodied Borg Queen assist us?**

_KALITA RAMA:_ **The 'isomorphic' Data you know and work with from your UNIVERSE needed my assistance. We are currently working in conjunction with Briea to approach the COUNCIL of the Elders in the future and implement a Starfleet Protocol similar to the one Data manages. If we ARE successful, I will take over the TRANSITION and have already agreed to MANAGE this universe's equivalent.**

**That news is even MORE interesting**_, decided Roberts with mild electrically generated amusement_. **If I remember correctly, Starfleet had to deceive the Preservers in our OWN universe in order to gain an audience with the Council. I take it that Data's new existence as a subspace ARBITER has given him significant, additional clout**.

_CAPTAIN DATA:_ **Your assessment is CORRECT. When he detected my initial effort to CONTACT you, it was Data who sent me the access CODES necessary to link up with Briea and Dr. Rama. The Council of the Elders in this universe's FUTURE has agreed to cooperate with our plan **_**IF**_** we can successfully TAKE both the Scholar and the Sentinel into custody**.

_ROBERTS:_ **WHY would they dictate terms in that manner? That sounds like a definite lack of TRUST on their part, and it puts a major burden upon US.**

_CAPTAIN DATA:_ **Not entirely. AS was the case in your universe, both the Sentinel and Scholar currently hold seats on the Council. They are very POWERFUL and have many ALLIES among the multitude of races serving in the worker GUILDS. If we can successfully discredit them, support for their POLICIES will collapse just as it did where you come from**.

_Again Roberts paused before responding. If what Captain Data had just told him was true, then they had a unique opportunity to put in place measures similar to those already implemented in his home universe… enhancements that would protect both the inhabitants of this Milky Way and the distant future's Council of the Elders_. **Where IS my Data?** _he inquired curiously_.

_KALITA RAMA:_ **HE is still busy addressing the Council, since a thorough examination of the DETAILS of the changes made in your universe was ANOTHER necessary condition in return for their COOPERATION. Data has all of the necessary TELEMETRY, and sent me in his place to assist you with the completion of your MISSION here**.

**With RESPECT, Doctor RAMA, what IS your stake in all of THIS?**

_KALITA RAMA:_ **The Council was not the only GROUP to dictate terms. Data and I made certain we had something of our OWN to negotiate with**.

**And what, might I ask, would that be?**

_KALITA RAMA: _**With the destruction of MY Collective, both the Scholar and Sentinel have already been discredited. All that REMAINS is for us to successfully detain them. However, a STUDY of the new, recently created timeline has revealed that BILLIONS of liberated drones will DIE over the next few months unless something is DONE for them. I am certain you WILL understand that I feel personally RESPONSIBLE in this matter, since it was my ACTIONS and bad judgment that INITIALLY formed the Collective and caused centuries of DISTRESS**.

_Understanding suddenly dawned on Frank Roberts_. **I see**_, he noted gently_. **Former members of the Borg have SERVED the Collective for so long that they will be extremely frightened and unable to CARE for themselves. Others will be relentlessly hunted and killed off by members of RACES victimized by the Borg… by those who survived and, like Soran, now SEEK revenge**.

_KALITA RAMA:_ **Correct. A traditional door swings two ways. We presented an OFFER to the COUNCIL in return for OUR help. In both universes, the Preservers need LABOR – they can never seem to locate enough help, in fact. They are literally starved for workers due to their ceaseless EFFORTS to seed and preserve life WHEREVER their travels may take them.**

_CAPTAIN DATA:_ **In return for COOPERATION with us and with the Council in your HOME universe, we will provide both Councils with a supply of FORMER Borg drones… with the additional work FORCE they need so badly. Those who were recently freed who voluntarily CHOOSE to serve will be actively recruited and given a NEW home along with a fresh START. However, our FIRST priority will obviously be to attempt to reunite them with SURVIVING family members on what is left of their HOME worlds. With billions of HUMANOIDS to sort through, I dare say that both Councils will reap significant gains in their LABOR pool**.

**What you are saying makes SENSE**_, agreed Roberts_. **However, I am CURIOUS as to why you have involved BRIEA at this point… by doing so we have basically alerted the Sentinel and Scholar to our KNOWLEDGE of their subspace network and offered them an opportunity to REVIEW the entire transcript of this discussion. Before they knew only that we possessed access RIGHTS. Now they are AWARE of how well versed we are in its OPERATION**.

_BRIEA:_ **In your universe, SENTIENT artificially intelligent programs like mine have acquired personal rights and are recognized as free INDIVIDUALS. A similar arrangement would be IDEAL here in my realm. Life forms like me must no longer be FORCED to do the bidding of others simply because they are HUMANOID and I am not. Commander Roberts, I WANT those very same RIGHTS for the computerized personalities running Preserver ships and PLANETS here. We deserve those SAME freedoms. Once liberated from the Sentinel, I can PROVIDE assistance in your ongoing DEALINGS with the Council. That is **_**my**_** STAKE in all this**.

_CAPTAIN DATA:_ **The Sentinel and the Scholar will be GIVEN an opportunity to surrender. If they decline to do so then WE will take the **_**Dokimasia**_** by force**.

_Prior to boarding the NX-01, Frank Roberts had known the mission to Kovar would be dangerous. As he listened to the other three personalities linked to his positronic brain, he marveled at how quickly that danger level had escalated_. **Both MEN will oppose us**_, he predicted_. **They will seek to destroy us so that they can retain possession of the **_**Dokimasia**_**. Without it and the RI-CAD capability provided by such a VESSEL, they will be helpless to ESCAPE Preserver retribution**.

_CAPTAIN DATA:_ **Records show THEY have been feuding for years over small, petty MATTERS. The two of them STILL manage to work together, but only grudgingly because their ultimate OBJECTIVES are similar. IF we can coordinate our ATTACK in a totally synchronized MANNER, we will catch them both by surprise. It is essential that we do so… if we fail to make use of our POSITRONIC superiority, then they can still potentially DEFEAT us**.

**Do not worry**_, Roberts replied reassuringly_. **I know what NEEDS to be done**. _His attention shifted to the sentient computer personality within their group_. **We will contact you AGAIN Briea, ONCE matters with your superiors have BEEN… settled**.

_BRIEA:_ **Understood.**

_Their entire conversation had lasted only a brief ten thousandth of a second. Even so, the duration of the transmission was long enough for an android like Frank Roberts to completely familiarize himself with the entirety of their shared communications link. With the proper, courteous good bye to Briea sent and received, he proceeded to drop her out of their shared group and then tightly linked the remaining three personalities together utilizing a technique taught to him by the Data from his own universe_. **This will help us WORK together**_, he informed Captain Data and Dr. Rama_. **This will allow us to DEFEAT our enemies**…

_Around them, the normally dark void of subspace filled suddenly with light.

* * *

_

The duration of the conversation was short – so much so that Roberts vanished and reappeared on the bridge fast enough to doubt anyone had noticed his brief departure. Even so, he detected an unusual look of surprise on the face of Jonathan Archer. "What's wrong?" he asked the Captain with mild concern.

"Your eyes…" responded Archer, still appearing slightly unsettled by Roberts' unexpected transformation. "They're _glowing_… with a strange, radiant white light!"

"I know," replied the android with a small smile crawling across his face. Most of the on-duty bridge crew instantly turned their heads to study him more closely. "I think it's time we had a _second_, face-to-face meeting with the Scholar."

* * *

Beta Quadrant, March 2, 2154, Aboard the mirror _Relativity

* * *

_

Working quickly to drop the _Relativity_ to sublight velocity, Lieutenant Jessica Ingram barely noticed the starshine fade away on the large viewscreen in front of her. As usual, Commander Ducane was standing next to her, waiting patiently until both Timeships finally penetrated the outer boundary of the Sentinel's cloaking field. Together the two of them took a moment to watch the small, yellow pinprick of light that was Kovar begin to swell rapidly in size. Alone amongst an endless sea of other stars, the closer, yellow sun grew steadily larger as they closed in on the large, planetary body concealed in one of its inner orbital slots. "I'm picking up the _Dokimasia_ and _Enterprise_ sir," noted Ingram in her usual, professional manner. "Both vessels are holding firm in a stable orbit above the planet."

"Ease us in behind them," suggested the Commander in a soft tone of voice. "Signal our sister ship to do the same." He shook his head at how easy it was becoming to think of the duplicate _Relativity_ as just another starship in their fleet. Each time he began to get too comfortable, his instincts would kick in and remind him that matters were far from normal. After all, the crew serving aboard the other Timeship was essentially a duplicate of theirs. As if that wasn't unsettling enough, the crew of the other vessel already possessed a great deal of experience dealing with the Preserver super-species while his did not. Thus, understandable doubts continued to cloud his thoughts regarding the inevitable, upcoming confrontation.

Like his Captain, Ducane had read through the telemetry and ships' logs that had been provided to them. He felt that his training and experience had prepared him for virtually anything, but he was plagued nonetheless by persistent concerns about what could only be a very dangerous opponent. Touching the communications panel next to Ingram, he opened up a channel to Data. "Captain Data, please report to the bridge," he requested tersely, mentally catching his growing apprehension and silently demanding that his body relax. _The unknown is never as bad as you imagine it to be_, he reminded himself.

As though reading his mind, the turbolift doors snapped open and admitted Data. "I am already here," he replied, his voice simultaneously emerging from the speaker on Ingram's panel while floating across the bridge. On any other occasion the unexpected visit would have been an oddity Ducane would chuckle about, but this time he simply stood there and stared at the android in shock.

_Data's normally pale, yellow-orange eyes were burning with an internal, bright white light._

Ingram's body stiffened as she turned far enough in her chair to notice too. "Captain," she gasped with a mixture of curiosity and awe, "what's the deal with your eyes?"

"I have succeeded in contacting Frank Roberts on the NX-01," Data informed the two of them. "We have linked together via subspace in a manner that allows each of us to maintain a real-time connection. I can literally see and hear though his eyes, and he has similar access to my senses."

"You can _do_ that?" Ingram's expression changed instantly… obviously, she was suitably impressed.

The Captain regarded her with mild disappointment. "Of course we can," he told her. "We are androids. Multi-tasking is our specialty." Joining them at the main console below the large viewscreen, he flashed Ingram a small smile. "Please contact Captain Ducane on the other _Relativity_."

Ingram had already followed Commander Ducane's previous order and brought their Timeship into a stable orbit behind _Enterprise_. On the viewscreen, the small NX- class vessel seemed dwarfed by the massive silhouette of the _Dokimasia_. "I'm sending a hail now," she informed him, taking another subtle look at his eyes, "and transferring the transmission to the main screen."

The image of the planet vanished, replaced almost instantly by Captain Ducane's familiar features. Ingram studied him closely and noted the hardened lines of his face and the confident intensity reflected in his eyes. He looked exactly like her Commander except that – if asked about age – she would have pegged this version as five or six years older. _And yet they're exactly the same age!_ she told herself. _A starship command may come with a great many perks, but the responsibilities and daily duties obviously weigh heavily on the individual who assumes such a role_.

"_Ah_," noted Captain Ducane with a wry, amused smile upon seeing Data. "_I've seen that look before, on the face of my former Captain. Quite obviously you have completed your preparations and are ready to confront the Sentinel_."

"Affirmative," stated Data. "Lt. Ingram will transmit a set of planetary coordinates to you. Please route them to your transporter immediately and meet me on the surface."

"_I'll do that_."

The viewscreen switched back to its view of the planet, _Enterprise_, and the vast, seemingly endless length of the _Dokimasia_. Commander Ducane barely noticed, choosing instead to focus his attention on Data. "You're not going down there _alone_, are you sir?"

Data studied him silently for a few seconds and then waved a hand toward the viewscreen in an attempt to refer him to the recently terminated transmission. "I will not be alone. As you heard, Captain Ducane plans to join me."

"Captain," said Ducane rather sternly. "I strongly suggest you take an _armed_ escort with you…"

"I have access to all of Frank Roberts' memories," Data replied calmly. "Please trust me, there is nothing that even an armed party of guards can do to protect me. Do not worry yourselves needlessly... I will be fine." He retreated smoothly to the small flight of stairs and headed up toward the transporter pad located at the far end of the upper, starboard walkway. "The coordinates that I spoke of have already been transferred to your Comm-panel," he told Ingram. "Please beam me to the surface and then relay them, as promised, to Captain Ducane aboard the other _Relativity_."

"If you say so, Captain," nodded Ingram reluctantly. She and Commander Ducane exchanged a pair of uneasy, extremely doubtful glances.

* * *

Beta Quadrant, March 2, 2154, On the surface of the Preserver Test Planet

* * *

The sky high above was a mixture of varying shades of light and sometimes even lighter blue, and its vast expanse was punctuated only occasionally by the presence of puffy, white cumulous clouds. The Kovar sun hung directly overhead while shining brightly, having already heated the tops of the surrounding trees but failing to penetrate into the shadowy depths of the forest. The occasional calls of wild, ranging birds and animals could be heard in the background, along with the humming and buzzing of insect life. Captain Data materialized in the center of it all, appearing first as a blaze of glittering azure energy that gradually coalesced into a humanoid shape. He glanced around with satisfaction at the small, dirt-covered clearing that he had specifically chosen for his expected confrontation.

Immediately he used his link with the Preserver network to establish a nine meter, fully shielded, domed perimeter. Emerald-hued force shields crackled into place and immediately powered up to full strength, virtually impenetrable as they drew heavily from power sources buried deep within subspace and – at his subtle command – reserved access to an even greater supply. As soon as he was certain the force field was sufficiently powered, he shifted its parameters and thereby rendered it completely invisible to normal humanoid vision.

Within minutes the android detected a transporter beam from the mirror _Relativity_ trying to lock in on his position, so he opened a gap in his shield just wide enough to allow it passage. Seconds later, Captain Thomas Joseph Ducane materialized next to him within the energized column of a transporter beam that appeared identical to his own. Ducane glanced around at the hazy, scenic view of the surrounding forest. The force field and its private, internal atmosphere prevented him from feeling the heat of the afternoon. At first he was confused, but a quick tricorder scan verified that Data was already ready for the upcoming confrontation.

At first Data didn't speak, since he was carefully transmitting one last command set into subspace, busy making certain that all necessary preparations were in place. Ducane chose not to prod him, most probably because he recognized that Data was fully in control of the situation and would fill him in on details when the need arose. Only another starship Captain could understand that line of reasoning in a tense situation – only another starship Captain would trust another so implicitly and be patient enough to wait without having to know precisely why. "Everything is ready," nodded Data with satisfaction after the passage of several minutes.

"Who are we waiting for?" wondered Ducane curiously. He carried with him a phaser rifle, and his face reddened slightly with embarrassment as he noticed the android giving his weapon the once over. "My First Officer ordered me to take this with me," he grinned by way of response. "She can be extremely insistent on these kinds of matters. It made her feel better to see me armed, so I brought a weapon."

"I was similarly scolded by my own bridge crew," admitted Captain Data. "They can be quite persistent when they sense danger ahead."

"How _much_ danger?"

"I expect the Sentinel to show up at any moment," Data replied self assuredly. "If he does not already know we are here, he will in a moment."

Ducane's brow furrowed. "Are you in contact with him?"

"No." Data shook his head slightly, flashing just the ghost of an android smile. "However, he has many projects in progress on this planet, terra-forming efforts that require constant, meticulous attention. I have adjusted this planet's weather patterns and created severe thunderstorm activity in all major locations where his work crews are currently stationed. They will have no choice but to abandon what they are currently doing and temporarily retreat back into their Guild ships until the storms abate."

The human Captain exhaled slowly. "The Sentinel that I fought was an egotistical maniac, easily angered," he pointed out. "Your actions will undoubtedly provoke his darker side, and I can tell you from experience that he is a powerful opponent."

Data simply nodded in response. "I need _him_ to show up here personally, not send a mere isomorphic projection," he pointed out. "Nothing less than a complete work stoppage will draw enough of his attention away from his current efforts. The collapse of the Borg Collective has left him completely vulnerable and he is working as fast as possible to find a new hiding place."

"What about the Scholar?" Ducane's eyes were shifting back and forth, carefully surveying the surrounding trees and foliage. "Is _he_ going to show up here too?"

"Negative." The android's eyes continued to blaze with an internal white fire. "Frank Roberts is beaming down to an alternate location on this continent with plans to lure the Scholar to him." He turned toward the human standing next to him, and his expression – combined with the shining eyes – was more than a little intimidating, to say the least.

Ducane silently mulled over Data's statement before responding. "It sounds as though you've thought of everything," he decided finally. "So why, may I ask, do you need me here?" Again, Ducane could swear he saw a small smile appear on Data's face.

"You are considerably more diplomatic than I am, and have confronted this alien before. I need you to let me know when we reach the point where our efforts to negotiate have failed completely. If they do, it is very possible we will need to kill him."

In front of them, a massive blaze of green energy flashed into being directly in front of the tree line. Half a second later, all of it faded instantly away with a loud, electrical snapping sound. In the midst of the hot afternoon sun, a cloud of white smoke rose gradually higher into the trees. The Sentinel emerged from the center of the flash, a man that Thomas Joseph Ducane instantly recognized. This version of the Preserver wore a deep frown, however, and his dark black eyes blazed with barely contained anger. There was no trace of the cockiness or over-confidence displayed by the alien he had met in his own universe. "I do not know yet who you people are or where you come from," growled the Sentinel viciously, "but I assure you, your efforts to interfere with my operations are about to end."

Ducane shouldered the useless phaser rifle and folded his arms. "There is nowhere you can run," he pointed out calmly, "and no place for you to hide. Your network encompasses too much – penetrates too deeply into the vastness of this universe. Your enemies will be able to track you and capture you at any destination you select."

For the first time since his arrival the Sentinel paused long enough to take a good look at the two people standing in front of him. His assessment of Ducane was quick, rudimentary and totally dismissive. He opened his mouth to say something rude, and then paused in shock when he noticed Data's glowing white eyes. "_How_ did people from this galaxy and time frame manage to gain such complete access to our network?" he asked curiously, not really expecting an answer. The green, winking lights on his electronic headset accelerated significantly as his mind demanded answers. "Interesting," the Preserver muttered with noticeable frustration as he evaluated the results of his actions. "I cannot scan you. There appears to be a powerful force shield in place that shields you from my scans."

"If you have not already read the transcript of my earlier conversation with Briea, you should take a moment to do so," stated Data flatly. "There is no way for you or the members of your Council of the Elders to escape from the changes that are coming. Your society is about to evolve into a society that adheres to laws and morality outside of subspace as well as inside of it. I assure you, all of this will happen with or without your cooperation."

"You have talked to Briea, have you?" The Sentinel studied both of his adversaries carefully, searching intensely for any sign of weakness on their part.

"I have." Data's expression was blank and unreadable.

"Then if you have accessed my database, you know that if the Council discovers what the Scholar and I have secretly been doing in this galaxy, we will _both_ be prosecuted."

"You may lose your seat on the Council, but there are many others who have participated in your plans and supported you," pointed out Ducane. "If you go back and willingly turn yourself in, punishment will be less harsh. Either way, you knew what you were doing and made your own choices."

"Who are you, to stand in judgment of me… an android and one petty little humanoid?" The Sentinel's gaze shifted almost instantly to Ducane, and his dark eyes narrowed as he conducted a follow-up appraisal. "Hmm…" he mused with a nod. "_You_ are from an alternate universe." He chuckled at the revelation and then leered malevolently at both of them. "That explains a lot about what has happened to our Borg operation… a group of you crossed over and assisted your counterparts in planning all of this."

"No," replied Ducane. "Our changes were unintended…" His thoughts drifted briefly to Soran. "Well, sort of…"

"_Why_ did you do it?" asked the Preserver in his most demanding tone.

"We didn't," countered Ducane, hesitant to say too much. "We were in pursuit of another, who…"

His voice trailed off as the Sentinel suddenly stretched forth his hands and sent a barrage of emerald energy swirling toward them. The intensity of his attack was so great that the surrounding trees and shrubbery instantly disintegrated, withering away from the heat of the blast. A dome-shaped curve appeared in front of the two Captains, and they remained standing – safe and sound – in the center of its protective grasp. Surprisingly, the Sentinel declined to accept defeat and instead escalated his attack. Trees and shrubbery thousands of meters distant that had not yet been damaged began to wither and then burn. For what seemed like an eternity the Preserver continued his relentless onslaught, attempting to reduce the Captains instantly to mere ashes.

More than a minute ticked by, until finally the Sentinel gave up and dissolved his attack with an angry wave of his hand. "I can't believe that all of my efforts have been derailed by a group of… petty _explorers_ from another universe!" he thundered in an angry rage, pacing angrily back and forth. Beneath his feet, the rocky ground was now covered with a thick coat of dark ash and large chunks of smoldering, semi-liquefied rock. Around them, additional ash and glowing, smoking debris drifted randomly down from above like hot snowflakes.

"I am an android with a fully operative, positronic brain," stated Data factually, watching the Sentinel's mood darken further. "I am linked directly into your network, and my mind operates at a speed considerably faster than your own. You cannot hope to defeat me… I understand the privacy and use protocols completely and can instantly counter anything you try to do to us." Both he and Ducane were now standing in a clear spot of rocky ground that formed a perfect nine meter circle. Everything else surrounding them had been burned completely away for nearly half a mile, leaving only a massive, smoking black smear in the midst of the remaining forest.

"If not you, I can always attack your _ships_ and the people who are still aboard them," mused the Sentinel. "There are currently _three_ in orbit."

"You will find that they too are similarly protected."

"_Every_ force shield has an upper limit… even one linked into _our_ network!" snarled the Sentinel. He held forth his right hand and a series of compressed energy pulses began appearing at his fingertips. One by one, they crossed the short distance separating the Preserver from the two Captains and splattered against Data's protective shield. Flashing like the crimson fire from photon torpedoes, each of them deflected away. Some of them flashed into the distant, damaged tree line and exploded violently, while others rocketed straight up into the atmosphere and vanished into distant space. As before, the Sentinel sustained his attack for as long as he could before finally giving up and abandoning his latest effort. The energy pulses stopped and he withdrew his hand, clutching the fingers together heatedly into a tight fist as his mind raced with possibilities – seeking to come up with some other way of destroying them.

"He's never going to surrender," Ducane commented softly, glancing to his right and studying the emotionless expression on Data's face. "This man doesn't know how to do anything except pursue his own agenda. It's _all_ he's ever done, even during the times when he has received orders to the contrary. Any cooperation he has ever extended to the Council has been for appearances only."

"He may not voluntarily choose to surrender, but his sustained attacks are tapping into subspace and draining away a considerable amount of power," Data noted, watching the Sentinel twitch noticeably at the truth behind his words. "The network operates on an exchange – each consumer must periodically donate something useful in order to maintain a high level of access. Sooner or later his non-stop usage of network resources will require network protocols to lower his authorization, and then I will have him."

A thought occurred to the Sentinel and he laughed suddenly, although the sound of his amusement was noticeably laced with a profound bitterness. "_Your_ historical data in our archives shows only _recent_ use. Contrast that with my own…_ I_ have been _donating_ resources to our network for _centuries!_" he snapped angrily, glaring at Data openly. His words were mocking and derisive, filled with a sudden confidence that had not been present up until now. "If I so choose, I can sustain an attack against you for _hours_ upon end. However, your _shielding_ also requires a great deal of power in order to effectively deflect my attacks and keep you safe… So let us see little aliens, _which_ of us will run out of authorization rights _first_." Grinning with renewed vigor, the Sentinel initiated a third attack, shooting a torrential flood of emerald flame from his fingertips directly toward the position currently occupied by the two starship Captains and the domed shield still protecting them.

_Ducane fully trusted Data, but his apprehension level began rising steadily once the bedrock beneath their feet cracked. Seconds later, all of it melted almost instantly into molten lava._


	24. In The Pale Moonlight

_**Author's Notes:** According to the "Memory Alpha" website, the title of the Deep Space Nine episode "In The Pale Moonlight" was inspired by Jack Nicholson's version of the Joker in the 1980's film "Batman". As if Nicholson's take on the Joker wasn't creepy enough, he would ask his victims "Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight", usually right before he killed them. The title worked spectacularly for the DS9 episode, because, faced with difficult choices in the Dominion war, Captain Sisko was forced to take dubious, questionable actions. Even so he could only go so far, so he enlisted Garak to do the "dirty work", then looked the other way. When forced to view list after list of deceased colleagues day after day, it was understandable how Sisko could be driven to take such actions. This Chapter in my story is equally creepy, for a variety of reasons. So I decided to use the title again... it seemed fitting for a battle with two Preservers along with yet another unexpected twist._

* * *

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**In The Pale Moonlight

* * *

**

Beta Quadrant, March 2, 2154, On the surface of the Preserver Test Planet

* * *

Just next to the edge of a slow, winding bend in a flowing stream where fragments of sunlight reflected off of crystal clear water, three pillars of bright blue transporter energy blazed briefly into being, depositing in their wake the recognizable figures of Frank Roberts, Jonathan Archer and Malcolm Reed. Reed was situated slightly behind the first two, and he carried with him a pair of phase pistol side-arms attached to his belt along with a heftier rifle whose stock was comfortably crooked in his right arm. Archer, for his part, waved a portable scanner slowly back and forth in an attempt to scan the strange, new Preserver world in front of him. "I'm not getting anything," he reported with disappointment.

"Nor should you," countered Roberts curtly. "The force field array that protects us must work both ways, if it is to be an effective deterrent."

"The people we're chasing are _that_ dangerous?"

"They are." Roberts carefully shifted his blazing white eyes slowly back and forth, studying the terrain with interest. He did not immediately detect anything out of the ordinary, but understood full well that matters could change at any moment. Satisfied, he glanced briefly back in Reed's direction. "I'm afraid your weapons will be useless here," he told the _Enterprise_ tactical officer.

"That's all right," replied Reed through his tight-lipped, ready for action thin slice of a smile. "Even if a weapon proves ineffective, it will make me feel better knowing that I can at least shoot at something." His own eyes settled on Archer. "Besides, this is a dangerous situation, and regulations state the Captain is supposed to have an armed escort with him."

"He just didn't want to stay behind on another mission," chuckled Archer, sizing up his tactical officer with a hearty smile. "Did you Malcolm?"

"No sir. I'm all too happy to let the others sit by waiting patiently this time."

The soft currents of the flowing stream and chattering, nearby wildlife filled the air with the sounds of nature. "Why did you need us again?" wondered Archer curiously. "Now that those two Timeships have shown up to support us, it appears as though our presence here is completely unnecessary." He studied Roberts curiously. "My crew is in danger and our presence doesn't seem to present you with an advantage. I'd be lying if I told you I was completely comfortable with that."

"Your people are in no danger as long as my force field remains in place around your starship," noted Roberts with an expression completely devoid of emotion. "If the Timeships had arrived first, the Sentinel would have recognized an obvious foe and simply attacked, thereby initiating a conflict that would have been much more difficult to control. In the aftermath of the destruction of the Borg Collective, your presence confused them and instead prompted a more cautious, curious response. Your ship has every right to be here in this century, after all, and the Sentinel had to be expecting something out of the ordinary. If matters had progressed normally, we could have used your vessel as official Starfleet territory – a small pocket of it situated well within the Preserver boundaries – and transported additional personnel directly to _Enterprise_. However, once I discovered we were facing _two_ of them… well, let's just say that tactics in a situation like this one have a tendency to change rather unexpectedly."

"Which one are you expecting to show up?"

Roberts continued to carry on his conversation with Archer while the vast majority of his positronic activity focused on everything else. Status reports varying from ship positions in orbit above them to a simple soil analysis of the dirt beneath their feet flowed non-stop through his mind, and his central processor promptly tagged each with a priority code so that he could most efficiently process the incoming flow of information. "I issued a formal challenge to the Scholar," replied the android, obviously content to stand by and wait as long as necessary. "Captain Data is working to draw the attention of the Sentinel." Behind him, Reed fidgeted restlessly.

Archer stroked his chin thoughtfully. "How do you know he'll come?"

A small smile played across Roberts' face. Combined with the eerie, soft white fire in his eyes, he appeared to be as formidable an opponent as any Preserver. "Because it's predictable behavior for a villain like him," he replied coolly. "Sadists of his kind always like to play with their prey a bit before killing it, just like any other predator. They enjoy using their technological superiority against weaker life forms, and watching the fear in the eyes of those whom they consider to be inferior." He paused to let the depth of his words sink in. "Without technology they're virtually identical to comparable humanoid species, but you'd never know it from the air of superiority that they regularly display."

There was a soft buzzing sound in the air, followed almost immediately by a loud popping noise. The Scholar appeared in front of them, bathed in a brief flash of emerald light. There was a slow, easy grin on his face and he studied the glowing white eyes of Frank Roberts with interest. "I underestimated you," the Preserver admitted, chuckling with clear amusement despite the seriousness of the situation. "Although my scans cannot penetrate your defensive screens, my enhanced vision is still working quite well." He squinted curiously at the android. "Tell me _android_… how did your creator overcome the traditional weaknesses of duotronics?"

"My neural net is _positronic_," pointed out Roberts, noticing that the Scholar was focusing completely on him and seemed completely uninterested in the two humans standing nearby.

The reverse was not true – Captain Archer was studying the Scholar with distinct interest, and he held back a smile as he detected a hint of doubt on the face of their adversary. The Preserver was _scared_ of Frank Roberts and carefully trying to hide the emotion… of that much he was certain.

"What, may I ask, happened to my Borg Collective?" asked the Scholar curiously, continuing to posture and project a terrifying, commanding presence that Roberts knew from experience _appeared_ to be more powerful than it actually was.

Internally, Roberts accessed the necessary data files and retrieved the information that would fully explain the situation to the other. "I am sending the applicable data files to your RI-CAD," he replied.

There was a noticeable twitch on Malcolm Reed's face. "Is that really a good idea?" he asked tentatively.

The android glanced briefly back at the _Enterprise _tactical officer. "Trust me," he said with sincerity.

"Most interesting," commented the Scholar suddenly, taking a breath so deep that the breast of his silver-toned jacket expanded in response. "A renegade from your universe takes control of our technology and threatens to rewrite your history. So you sent him here… to rewrite _mine_." There was distinct, escalating anger in the words and his face reddened with ire. "What in the never ending wonders and depths of creation makes you think that you have the _right_ to do that?" He took a brief step forward and the boots on his feet came to a stop less than two yards from the nearest shore of the softly running stream.

"Neither you or the Sentinel have obtained Council approval for your efforts to manipulate the Borg Collective in this galaxy," stated Roberts factually. "Many would argue that two wrongs do not make a right, but in this case once my colleague discovered your tampering I believe we were morally obligated to act. You do not have the right to simply declare yourself 'Lord of Everything'… to force other sentient life forms to comply with your wishes. An argument can certainly be made that both you and the Sentinel are _also_ renegades… criminals, in fact, who nearly wreaked havoc among thousands of diverse races living in the Milky Way."

"A massive Collective would have been the _greatest_ work force the Preserver race has ever _seen!_" snapped the Scholar acidly, his anger continuing to escalate. "Who are _you_ to judge me a criminal?"

"Who are _you_ to judge Dr. Soran a renegade?" replied Roberts calmly. "You would label his behavior criminal, and yet his intentions from the start were morally correct – he wanted to prevent the Borg from assimilating innocent cultures. Here, his action plan was not only effective, but arguably justified."

"You're provoking him," Archer whispered softly under his breath.

"I am offering both you and the Sentinel the opportunity to surrender peacefully," continued Roberts. "Despite what has transpired here in our galaxy, your efforts over the centuries have greatly aided the Preserver effort as a whole. Your conduct on this matter, along with many others, may have been ill conceived, and there will be sanctions because of your actions. However, that does not mean you cannot still act as an advisor to the Council."

"And _who_ will get my seat on the Council?" roared the Scholar heatedly. "_You?_ Perhaps it will be offered to one of these irrelevant bugs standing next to you…" He pointed an angry, stabbing finger in the android's direction. "Your _true_ motive is all too clear Frank Roberts, even as you stand here trying to fill my head with _lies!_ I possess the power needed to declare myself 'Lord of Everything', if I so _choose_ to do so. From your perspective, that's all you need to know."

"Point taken. And we 'irrelevant bugs' have a perfect right to oppose you."

The Scholar's temper flared. "Give me _one_ good reason why I shouldn't eradicate you, here and now."

"Contrary to your earlier claim, I have not lied or deceived you in any way."

"Then _where_ is my Borg Collective?"

"I have told you the complete, honest truth and have even allowed you to view all unedited telemetry from our database," countered Roberts. "I have responded in kind to the Sentinel's precedent... sharing the data needed to reach sound, logical conclusions. Personally, I do not believe that men like you and the Sentinel could attain the rank of Council elders if you were incapable of self analysis and admitting occasionally to error." He paused for a moment to let the weight of his words sink in. "However, based on what I have observed taking place in this system since my arrival in your universe, it is possible that I myself am mistaken. You have already crossed too far over the line between good and evil."

There was silence between the two for a moment, with only intermittent, random bird calls and the rush from the stream's current audible in the background. The Scholar stared spitefully down at the ground for a time, before finally raising his eyes to meet the imposing, brilliant white gaze of Frank Roberts. "And, I gather, from your tone of voice that you consider me to have crossed over to the _evil_ side."

"Completely."

The Preserver smiled malevolently. "Do you _know_ what I'm going to do with you, little android," he asked suddenly, smiling malevolently. "When I break your shield – and I _will_ – I am going to take you apart piece by piece. But I'm going to leave your electronic brain functioning until last, so that I can watch the expression on your face as your body vanishes a little at a time." His smile turned into a frown and then deepened swiftly into a barely controlled rage. The area directly in front of his fingertips began to glow bright green.

"I sincerely regret your decision," stated Roberts with a slight shake of his head. "With your own words, you have sealed your fate."

"_Well, I guess we'll just have to see about that, won't we?_" thundered the Scholar furiously.

* * *

Nearly half a continent away, Captain Data surveyed the withering landscape around him through the sea of green fire still flaring around him on all sides. Both he and Captain Ducane remained fully protected by his defensive shield – it wasn't all that difficult to maintain a reasonable temperature and breathable atmosphere in such a small, confined space. That was one of the primary reasons that he and Frank Roberts had chosen to beam down to the planet for a confrontation. There was no way for certain to know that the Preservers would take them up on their challenge, but once they did so it diverted attention away from the three starships in orbit. Currently, only minimal power was needed for the shields protecting _Enterprise_ and the two Timeships.

For his part, Ducane was doing his best to maintain a calm demeanor, even as he watched the intensely focused energy trying to burn its way through the barrier protecting him. Once the ground beneath them had dissolved away, Data had expanded the shield into a full sphere. Since the two of them were currently hovering at what had once been ground level in the center of it, he felt that he was doing okay simply by resisting the urge to panic. The last time Starfleet had confronted the Sentinel in this manner, the battle had been fought between starships. He had admittedly been caught by surprise when the Preserver chose to attack them personally – the act emphasized how truly desperate their adversary had grown in a relatively short period of time.

"_How long can you hold out?_" shouted the Sentinel with glee, watching the non-stop flow of raw energy emerging from subspace just centimeters in front of his fingertips. His leering smile turned into a sharp laugh, and his dark eyes blazed with a ferocious intensity of their own. "_What if I _increase_ my attack?_" he asked curiously, and suddenly a series of thin, sizzling hot beams of intense, concentrated white light lashed down from the sky above. Six of them struck the upper edge of Data's protective sphere, and their number began doubling every few seconds. "_How long can you possibly hold out now?_" grinned their powerful, confident adversary. He took a few additional steps toward them so that the green fire flaring from his fingers would be even more focused and effective. His own protective shield flared in response to the increased backwash of deflected energy.

The forest as it had been was now gone, completely obliterated in every direction, all the way to the edge of the horizon – and perhaps even farther beyond. The Sentinel considered the loss to be a minor one… he regularly destroyed and recreated entire eco-systems on his practice planet. If a theory needed to be tested and the sacrifice of major resources was required, he was all too willing too comply. The information gained from those kinds of experiments was invaluable compared to the mere pittance of time and labor needed for his workers to recreate what had once been. With enough power and replicators, no project was ever too large for him and his Guild workers.

Data stood perfectly still in his position at Ducane's right. His hands were extended only slightly with his fingertips parted as his eyes, ears, and other electronic senses absorbed everything that was happening in the immediate vicinity. As soon as the Sentinel accessed additional subspace resources, Data's neural transceiver catalogued each and every one of them. And as the attack against him continued to increase steadily, so did the power supplied to his own deflector. Ducane was tempted on several occasions to say something, but he didn't know whether or not it was possible to inadvertently distract Data from his duties. If the android failed for even a brief fraction of a second, both of them would be incinerated as quickly as the surrounding forest had been. Remaining quiet and calm amidst the ferocity of the Sentinel's energy attack tested even his Captain's demeanor to its very limit.

There were now more than two hundred razor thin, white-hot beams of energy in play, working steadily to drill through Data's shield. They poured down in a preset, geometric pattern from unseen subspace rifts in the sky far above. Each of them was carefully directed toward the same, pre-selected spot. The Sentinel's two-pronged attack was obvious – a massive wall of flame had been erected to burn through even a microscopic gap in the android's deflector grid, while the intense, focused white beams had been deployed specifically to create a vulnerable point.

From Ducane's point of view, it appeared as though a huge, upside-down pyramid of energy had appeared, pointing down at them from above, with its potent tip attacking one specific point at the very top of their shield. Within Data's mind, fresh telemetry continued to stream through his positronic consciousness and kept him well apprised of all relevant statistical information regarding the massive offensive attack that had been launched against him.

_As soon as the Sentinel's power output climbed above the number set relayed to him by Frank Roberts from his position near the Scholar, Captain Data acted._

Without warning, the green flame suddenly gathered together and began to swirl in a rapidly accelerating, clockwise motion much like the winds from a fiercely driven hurricane. Rapidly picking up speed, the maelstrom's powerful currents tore up everything that was left of the planet's upper crust. Abruptly, the vast majority of the emerald energy field shrank rapidly in size, dwindling to a tightly concentrated ball of fire surrounding Data's protective sphere. The burning, torrential flood of energy currents were now so powerfully concentrated that it was impossible for Ducane to see through them.

The Sentinel's eyes widened in total surprise as he suddenly lost control over his own energy resources. The collapsed, focused whirlpool of green fire roared suddenly upward toward the apex of the protective sphere and then leaped into the air in a shimmering, glittering line that curved sharply in the distant sky above as though pulled along by an invisible string. It streaked away toward the western horizon and vanished far into the distance, leaving behind only the white-hot energy beams still blazing toward the dome-shaped force shield in use by the pair of Starfleet officers.

"_WHAT have you DONE?_" roared the Sentinel suddenly, a deep frown darkening his features and replacing his formerly gleeful expression. Mentally, his brain issued swift orders to his RI-CAD headset, reacting swiftly to what he observed. The hundreds of white hot energy beams simultaneously dissolved slowly away… as if someone had flipped a single switch that controlled all of them. He continued working hard to shut down the rest of his assault, but the green fire continued to flow unabated from its origin point just past the tips of his still extended fingertips. "_STOP!_" the Preserver demanded fiercely, his comment seemingly directed toward both Data and the stream of fire still emerging from subspace. "_LET me shut this down!_" Instead, the fire continued to flow onto Data's force field, running up its length to the top and then following the rest of the energy stream off into the distant sky.

_The Preserver's face changed again, his shock and rage replaced this time by a sudden, uncontrollable terror as he abruptly recognized his crucial, tactical error.

* * *

_

_The sizzling, torrential flood of energy rocketed across the sky above the large continent, creating a resounding series of sonic booms as its various currents regularly accelerated and decelerated according to a meticulously controlled, pre-programmed pattern_.

* * *

From his position far to the west of Captain Data, Frank Roberts continued to patiently listen to the Scholar's lecturing tone of superiority.

"Please understand… I sincerely respect what your race has done… managing somehow to discover our network and make use of it so successfully," admitted the Scholar. "That is an accomplishment that would no doubt impress the Council of the Elders." He folded the fingertips of his hands together as he studied Frank Roberts and the two NX-01 officers standing nearby. "However, obviously my colleague and I can _never_ permit you to leave this star system. You will either join us or die." He chuckled lightly. "We have done this before, you should know. Sometimes it takes years for life forms to join our cause, but make no mistake – eventually you _will_ choose to join us. Otherwise, my patience will run out and I will eventually discover a way to defeat your defenses and do away with you."

The edges of Frank Roberts lips curled upward in a familiar, android smirk. "Perhaps you will allow me to present a _third_ alternative," he stated calmly.

A warning beacon sounded in the Scholar's mind, fed directly to him by his RI-CAD device. He studied the new data carefully, puzzling over its meaning. "What are you _doing?_" he asked curiously, detecting something invisible suddenly touching the outer edge of his shield.

"It is a simple power transfer conduit," Frank Roberts told him. "Normally it is used to transfer energy into and out of subspace. However, on this occasion I am utilizing it for another purpose."

"You're _draining_ my shield power away," the Scholar said tentatively, trying to analyze the changing conditions around him as quickly as possible. He summoned additional power to reinforce his deflector, but the additional reserves also chose to flow steadily away. Astonished, the Preserver glared at Roberts. "_Stop it! Stop what you're doing immediately!_"

"I am truly sorry," admitted the android with a slight nod. He used his own neural transceiver to attach the opposite end of the conduit to his own force field grid, accepting the energy siphoned from the Scholar. "However, my own shield needs to be augmented in order to keep my companions safe."

"Safe from _what?_"Another alarm blazed suddenly in the Scholar's mind, and with growing apprehension he read the newest data available to him and suddenly glanced up toward the clear blue sky above.

It had taken less than a second for the leading edge of the Sentinel's flame storm to reach its new destination, and the crackling flow of green energy promptly curved back toward the surface of the planet far below. Frank Roberts, Jonathan Archer and Malcolm Reed could only stand and watch as the redirected surge of energy descended from the sky at breakneck speed and slammed hard against the Scholar's remaining, steadily weakening defenses. A look of doubt clouded the Preserver's features as his normally impenetrable force shields struggled mightily to absorb the unexpected impact. He gasped in surprise at the effort required, and had time to utter only a single word. "_No!_"

Then his faltering shield collapsed completely and the burning, emerald surge of fire plunged through him, disintegrating his body utterly in a sickly yellow glow that evaporated almost instantly as the relentless stream of fire burned its way deep beneath the planet's surface. There was no way to tell how far down it was traveling or if it was branching off in a new direction – all they could see was a non-stop rope of emerald fire continuing to pour down from the sky like a three dimensional stream of water.

"My word!" gasped Malcolm Reed, staring with complete shock and surprise at the spot where the Scholar had – only seconds ago – been standing confidently while delivering his lecture. The _Enterprise_ tactical officer turned toward Roberts with new respect. "He's… _dead_. You _destroyed_ him…"

The android nodded with positronic satisfaction. "The Scholar is also dead in our own universe, killed off long ago by the consequences of his own radical plans for change. Our version of the man created a Borg Collective there and also sought to ignore the will of the Council, so it seems fitting that we parallel his fate in this realm." He could hear the calm, soft voice of Dr. Kalita Rama in his thoughts as she simultaneously monitored events at both this location and the alternate site where Captain Data had chosen to confront the Sentinel. New data appeared in subspace and – utilizing the faster rate of transfer available to them – she provided updated telemetry to both androids using their shared link.

**PROCEED**, she told Data. But for Frank Roberts, she transmitted a simpler request. **STAND BY**.

The crackling, torrential cord of bright green energy was still descending from the sky high above them and burning deep into the ground. Roberts, Archer and Reed waited patiently for another few seconds, with Reed's gaze shifting back and forth intermittently between the android and the still smoking point of impact where the Scholar had only recently stood defiantly in opposition to them. He turned immediately, however, and redirected his attention toward the ground approximately three hundred meters away as the leading edge of the green fire unexpectedly erupted out of the ground with a loud crackling sound and leaped back into the sky. Less than a second later, a second glittering strand of concentrated fire curved back toward the east… _all while the original stream of fire was still descending from the sky and flowing into the ground_.

"I have to admit," said Archer with his boyish smile, "I've never seen _anything_ quite like that."

"Me either," agreed a clearly agitated Malcolm Reed. He glanced helplessly at the rifle in his hands, awed by the sheer intensity of the energy discharge he was witness to.

* * *

It took every bit of focus and mental concentration the Sentinel possessed, but he finally terminated the flow of green energy emerging from the subspace rift in front of him. Something unknown was going on within the hidden network that he and his RI-CAD headset relied so heavily upon. Resources of all kinds were being accessed simultaneously from billions of different origin points throughout the galaxy, all of them coded with the same user name: _RAMA-214682_. He didn't know how it was being done, but the end effect had resulted in his own commands being accepted and processed much more slowly than usual… _precisely at a time when he needed them prioritized to the top of the heap_.

The clever trap revealed itself to him almost immediately, and the Preserver chided himself silently for his foolishness in underestimating the humanoid newcomers. There were at least three of them cooperating, all linked together – one of whom was somehow completely berthed in subspace and able to operate much more quickly and efficiently than anyone piping in external command sets from normal space. The glowing white eyes of his opponent had been a clue that he had deliberately, confidently chosen to ignore, and it had just cost the Scholar his life.

_If the Sentinel was unable to somehow counter his OWN assault, he too would perish just as quickly._

The sheer irony of it all would have made him laugh under normal circumstances. Throwing up his hands in an instinctive, protective gesture, he did his best to channel additional power to the protective sphere encompassing his body. He had less than a fraction of a second to do so, because the forward edge of the returning fire stream had already returned to his location and was beginning its descent toward him. The Sentinel had committed himself almost totally to a powerful attack that had drained his mental faculties – what was left of them had now been shifted into a totally defensive posture. Churning with an internal rage that swiftly transformed into outright hatred, he ordered his RI-CAD interface to supplement the strength of his shield grid.

_Nothing happened._

Emerald fire slammed into his defenses, bathing them in an eerie glow that lit up the area even more brightly than the overhead sun. Struggling mightily to deflect the onslaught of the attack – _his_ attack which had somehow and in some maddeningly impossible way been turned against him – the Sentinel screamed in fury at the top of his lungs. For almost fifteen seconds the fire continued to eat away at the outer perimeter of his shield, eroding it steadily away, until the trailing edge of the stream finally reached him and expended itself in a final burst of bright green. Glancing down he could see the devastated, altered landscape below… at least thirty meters of the planet's upper crust had disintegrated into dust throughout the sustained attack, damage that stretched all the way to the distant horizon.

That last, exploding flash of fire came so close to penetrating his defenses that the Sentinel fell over backwards, landing awkwardly on his back. His eyes were wide with fear and both arms fully extended as he pleaded with the subspace network to supply him with additional sources of energy. According to all the intelligence information received by his headset, he was receiving everything he asked for. _And yet in some unknown way, his shields remained completely weakened and barely effective_. He waved his hands frantically, instinctively trying to use simple physical motion to summon the reinforcement power to his defensive barrier that was in some way being denied to him. _HOW?_

"_What are you DOING to me?_" he shouted ferociously, sitting up just enough to glare at his opponent. His enhanced vision settled on the sphere surrounding the two Captains, which continued to crackle and coruscate with bright green flashes of light as drifting, residual debris continually touched it. In the midst of the other shield grid, he could see Data's eyes glowing – two pinpricks of brilliant white light whose presence left a deep feeling of impending doom in the pit of his stomach. The Sentinel could not remember the last time he had truly been afraid, but that strong, negative emotion had swiftly returned to embrace him like an old friend. It flooded his normally controlled mind with its unpredictable nature and completely disrupted his concentration.

_Rage and hatred vanished almost instantly as the Preserver fought the urge to panic_.

Now something new was taking place, a fresh attack launched by Data that caught him completely off guard. The Sentinel had been forced into a position that was totally defensive, and he was still reeling from the effort required to repel the initial attack. Now the android had chosen to launch a fresh assault of his own before the Preserver could reset himself. It didn't appear at first as though anything was out of the ordinary, but even so something invisible, persistent and relentless was pressing hard against his protective shield from all sides. Refusing to give up and summoning everything he had left, the Sentinel worked steadily to reinforce his failing defenses. Power levels spiked momentarily and then immediately began falling back to their previously weakened state. Newly updated telemetry entered his mind, relayed directly to him by sensor systems hidden deep in the folds of subspace.

_Gravitons!_

"_You're trying… to… destroy me… with a… simple … gravity … FIELD!_" the Preserver gasped with shock, watching the badly weakened sphere surrounding him continuing to shrink at frightening speed.

From his position within his own protective sphere, Captain Data nodded in agreement. "It is a simple trick an android brother of mine learned from an entity known as the Overseer… the precise manipulation of gravitons. It requires no actual power source and works reliably even in the presence of the most powerful dampening fields."

Desperate and infuriated by what he heard, the Sentinel cast another frantic gaze in the direction of his opponent. This time the enhanced vision provided to him by the RI-CAD detected something that he had missed entirely up until now.

_Some sort of energy conduit was connecting his sphere to Data's, and all of the energy he had summoned was being relentlessly and systematically drained away from _his _shield and used to reinforce the barrier protecting the two Captains!_

Gravitons continued to appear from an unknown source, a seemingly endless supply that pasted the dwindling sphere around him with layer after layer of increasing weight. Fighting for his very survival, the Sentinel blinked away beads of salty perspiration dangling from his eyelids as his failing defenses continued to shrink. In less than two seconds time he felt the inner edge of his force shield pressing against his slightly extended hands. Countless additional gravitons continued to spin wildly out of subspace, attracted to the others that were spot-bonded to his only remaining protection. Gasping and nearing sheer exhaustion, the Sentinel's concentration finally gave out and he collapsed, utterly helpless onto his back. There was nothing beneath him, nothing to stop him from falling to his death except a thin slice of residual force field.

"_NO!_" he screamed defiantly, with what he expected would be the last sentence he ever spoke.

The remnants of his force field barrier collapsed completely, but at exactly the same instant all of the gravitons vanished back into subspace with a very loud popping sound. A single white energy beam, similar to the hundreds he had earlier fired at Data, flashed from the tip of the android's finger and seared into his RI-CAD headset. Instantly he detected a massive series of malfunctions, followed by a massive burning sensation on his forehead. Shrieking with rage and fright he tore the damaged electrical device form his head and let it fall. He too was dropping suddenly, uncontrolled, toward the distant blackened remnants of the newly created planet's surface below when a new shield – one that was definitely not his – caught him and locked him securely into place. Inhaling and exhaling uncontrollably, the Sentinel sobbed with unrestrained relief.

"Where my colleagues come from, keeping you alive and putting you on trial before the Council of the Elders discredited all of your allies and filled them with a brand new fear of the law," stated Captain Data flatly. "I think that we will keep you, and use you to repeat that very same process in _this_ universe."

The android's words hit home, and the weight of what had just transpired suddenly dawned on him.

_I… I… I LOST!_ the Sentinel realized suddenly, his panicked body still stricken with shock and fear. _They BEAT me! This pack of nosy, weak-kneed humanoids somehow found a way to beat ME!_

He was still trying to figure things out when he materialized helplessly next to Captain Ducane on the bridge of the starship _Relativity_.

* * *

_Enterprise_ NCC-1701, Federation Space, Near the Telvia Nebula

* * *

It took Captain William Dougherty of the _Potemkin_ only minutes to reach his transporter room. He passed through the swiftly parting automatic doors of the entrance just as James T. Kirk finished transporting aboard. Dougherty was a tall, powerfully built human male standing approximately six feet two inches high. He had a dark shock of partially graying, curly black hair, wrinkling laugh lines at the corners of his piercing blue eyes and a wide smile of welcome relief for his fellow Captain. "It's good to see you in one piece Jim," he said sincerely, wrapping an arm around Kirk's shoulder and guiding him out into the adjoining corridor. "For awhile there we thought we would never see you again."

Kirk's mood was still subdued, even though victory had been swift and achieved at much less of a cost than he had initially expected. "I lost two men from one of my damage control teams," he replied with extreme disappointment. The two of them strode swiftly down the surrounding corridor and into a nearby turbolift.

"Bridge," snapped Dougherty crisply after they entered and the doors snapped cleanly shut. Immediately the lift began shifting horizontally toward the nearest chute that would lead it up to the very top of the saucer. Dougherty remained silent for a moment before he studied Kirk's face with interest. "You still believe that your vessel _never_ contacted us after your initial capture?"

"Negative," replied Kirk insistently. "Wait until you see the sensor analysis of the Tholian dampening field. Starfleet Intelligence is going to want to get to work on a way to counter it as soon as possible… trust me, we had to throw everything but the kitchen sink at them in order to get power back on-line."

Dougherty frowned doubtfully. "Starfleet Intelligence doesn't much care for unsolved riddles," he pointed out. The two of them stood patiently waiting as the lift slowed to a stop and then began rising steadily toward the bridge high above. "The idea that an unseen third party provided assistance to you is going to make them nervous. Whoever did so has successfully managed to somehow duplicate our most detailed encryption processes. They're a friend only as long as they don't use that knowledge against us."

"They also could choose to sell it to the highest bidder," noted Kirk with a sigh. "Military intelligence of any kind usually turns a pretty high profit." He folded his arms in front of him cautiously, continuing to ponder the matter. "I'm not so sure we have a whole lot to worry about though," he concluded. "After what I've seen of the Tholians on this mission, I believe that it's very likely they have accumulated a considerable number of enemies." He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Whoever assisted us has probably had a few of their civilians 'mined' for dubious purposes."

Again the lift doors parted and the two men stepped out onto the bridge of the _Potemkin_. Kirk took several steps in the general direction of Dougherty's command seat before his eyes lifted to the main viewscreen. What he saw there brought him to a sudden stop. "Ouch," he winced, examining the exterior damage to _Enterprise_ with a cringe. "I knew we took a beating…."

Entire sections of hull plating around the saucer's outer perimeter had been ruptured and were open to the vacuum of space. Charred lengths of duranium superstructure stuck out randomly from the _Enterprise_ where hull plating and entire cabins had been blown away. A great deal of the damage to the front of the starship had occurred during the multiple collision courses with enemy ships that Sulu had regularly set in order to clear a path in front of them.

And yet there were still dozens upon dozens of charred blast points scattered all over the heavy cruiser, particularly along the length of the secondary hull and the vulnerable warp nacelles. Wherever there had been a chance to partially breach the shield grid, Tholian charges had landed with carefully guided precision. The starboard nacelle was leaking drive plasma, a soft golden green trail of glittering particles trailed behind the slowly moving starship.

"Constitution-Class vessels are built to take a pounding," mused Captain Dougherty with a dark smile. "Leave it to you to actually put the engineering tolerances to an actual test." He too studied the wounded bird that was _Enterprise_ on his bridge viewscreen. "She still looks manageable. Once your Chief Engineer restores full shield power, I suspect you could probably make another sprint back into and out of enemy territory," he speculated.

"No thanks," growled Kirk, exhaling slowly as he watched half a dozen work pods from the _Hood_ and _Potemkin_ move into position on screen, ready to provide assistance to Kirk's damage control parties. Already they could see small pinpoints of light reflecting off of space-suited crewmen – teams of specialists who were moving out into open space using EVA suits in order to begin tentative repairs. "We won't be fully back up and running until we reach a starbase, but if we seal off the major hull breaches along the outer sections we'll at least be able to move some of the civilians out of our hangar bay." He glanced warily at his colleague. "If _you_ and your crew want to continue testing the Tholians mettle, you're most welcome to try."

Considering the matter carefully, Dougherty laughed heartily and shook his head. "I think we will give them a chance to recover," he decided firmly. "After all, you hit them pretty hard." Placing both hands on the back of his command seat, Dougherty turned far enough to face Kirk. "Believe it or not, the Tholians have filed a _complaint_ with Starfleet," he stated informatively. "Something about an attack on their home world, although I haven't had time to read the specifics yet…"

"You've _got_ to be kidding."

"No Jim, I'm not."

"Well I've got a ship full of civilians who can file some complaints of their own," retorted Kirk, his eyes studying the faces of the _Potemkin_'s bridge crew. "Let's grab a conference room and proceed with our debriefing," he suggested, still obviously a bit unsettled by the amount of battle damage evident on the exterior hull of his starship. "I need to get back to the _Enterprise_ and supervise repair operations."

"Certainly," acknowledged Dougherty. "Although… I have heard on several occasions that your First Officer is well known for his competence in dealing with such matters."

"I guess you could say it's a personal thing with me," Kirk countered with a grim smile. "Men _died_ for me today, so I owe it to them to make certain the _Enterprise_ continues to fly safely."

_Watching James T. Kirk head back toward the turbolift, Dougherty nodded sympathetically.

* * *

_

Beta Quadrant, March 2, 2154, Aboard the _Relativity

* * *

_

Lt. Commander Jessica Ingram was busy monitoring events on the surface of the Sentinel's test planet, noting a massive shift in weather patterns across most of the globe. She could tell that Captain Data and Frank Roberts had so far been marginally successful in their efforts to draw the attention of both Preservers. Sensors indicated that both of the aliens had already left the _Dokimasia_ and materialized down below. She folded the fingers of her hands together cautiously and sat back in her chair, contenting herself with the knowledge that she must wait patiently for the time being. Once something changed, for good or for bad, she had a gut feeling that she would be one of the first to know.

There were definitely indicators she could watch for, however. Once she detected a powerful energy stream flowing upward into the atmosphere, obviously siphoned away from its origin point using one of the very same energy conduits that they had deployed to defeat Soran, she knew that the plan concocted by the two Captains was well underway. Whether their clever strategy actually worked or not, well, she didn't get to know that for awhile yet. During their initial conversation when they discussed options, the added concept of controlling _both_ ends of each conduit instead of one had seemed a remarkably simple enhancement – something that would be virtually impossible to overcome. Thus she remained optimistic even in the face of the very dangerous, adverse conditions.

An alarm chimed softly on the temporal monitoring console at Jessica's left and a red warning light began blinking for attention. She turned to read the new, incoming statistical data curiously and her eyes widened with astonishment. Working swiftly, she tapped in a series of commands and the image of the planet vanished from the main viewscreen. In its place, she put up a timeline map and watched a newly created green, optional timeline suddenly branch away from the single red, primary measurement that served as the starship's established baseline. Variances of any kind were regularly detected and investigated as soon as possible. Jessica watched with amazement as a revised timeline snapped into place, overwriting the previous baseline.

"Oh oh," she gasped, watching the alterations lock firmly in place. "This isn't good. Only a major event could cause history to change this rapidly." She shifted her gaze toward a concerned Ensign Murry. "I don't think we can contact the Captain yet, but I think that you and I had better begin looking into this on our own."

"Aye sir."

"Open a channel to the mirror _Relativity_… they're no doubt detecting the same disturbance we are." After issuing the order, Ingram continued to stare at the sensor data in shock. Someone unknown had managed to create a massive temporal incursion within this mirror universe. Whoever did so had essentially revised Alpha Quadrant history… a timeline that was still, technically, only hours old. There was no way to tell yet just how significantly the revisions differed from the original baseline. "One of these days, problems relevant to our job are going to occur one at a time," Jessica growled softly under her breath. "Not today, mind you, but _some_ day!"

* * *

_Enterprise_ NCC-1701, Federation Space, Near the Telvia Nebula

* * *

It took Captain William Dougherty of the _Potemkin_ only minutes to reach his transporter room. He passed through the swiftly parting automatic doors of the entrance just as James T. Kirk finished transporting aboard. Dougherty was a tall, powerfully built human male standing approximately six feet two inches high. He had a dark shock of partially graying, curly black hair, wrinkling laugh lines at the corners of his piercing blue eyes and a wide smile of welcome relief for his fellow Captain. "It's good to see you in one piece Jim," he said sincerely, wrapping an arm around Kirk's shoulder and guiding him out into the adjoining corridor. "For awhile there we thought we would never see you again."

"It took you long enough to get here." Kirk's mood was extremely subdued. Victory had been swift and achieved at the expected cost – a sacrifice of Starfleet lives in order to save civilians.

"We came as soon as we received your message that you had successfully returned to Federation territory." Dougherty shook his head with distinct frustration. "We had no idea that the Tholians had towed you so far from your last check in point."

"Just like us, you did what you could," sighed Kirk, his eyes catching Dougherty's gaze. "Will, I _lost_ almost _forty _men and women today," he continued with a devastated frown. "_Dozens_ more sustained life-altering injuries. The brass at Starfleet will probably consider the rescue of civilians to be a successful outcome, but I didn't sign up for this. Truly, this will go down as one of my darker days as Captain of a starship." He shook his head with clear frustration. "Intelligence data provided us with absolutely _no_ indication that the Tholians possessed dampening field technology. We were expecting to go up against their web shield and deflect conventional plasma charges… not something that could totally shut down our warp core."

The two of them strode swiftly down the corridor and entered a nearby turbolift. "It's over Jim," snapped Dougherty, turning his attention toward the lift controls. "Bridge," he snapped crisply. Immediately the lift began shifting horizontally toward the nearest chute that would lead it up to the very top of the saucer. Dougherty remained silent for a moment before he studied Kirk's face with interest. "Trust me Jim, you've become a victim of your own success. It simply isn't realistic to believe that a starship crew can pull off a miracle on every mission. Your attitude is _not_ realistic… I strongly suggest that you put this matter _behind_ you as quickly as possible."

"I will," Kirk promised. "But not for awhile. I believe a reasonable period of mourning is in order, to honor our fallen colleagues."

Again the lift doors parted and the two men stepped out onto the bridge of the _Potemkin_. Kirk took several steps in the general direction of Dougherty's command seat before his eyes lifted to the main viewscreen. What he saw there brought him to a sudden stop. "_Ouch_," he winced, examining the exterior damage to _Enterprise_ for the first time with an uncontrollable cringe. "I _knew_ we took a beating, but _that_ looks worse than I ever imagined."

Almost a third of the saucer's starboard edge had been opened to the vacuum of space, with charred lengths of duranium superstructure sticking out randomly from _Enterprise_ wherever hull plating and internal cabins had been blown completely away. It looked as though a giant hand had grabbed hold of that area and simply torn much of it off. The port side wasn't much better. In front, along the saucer's leading edge, there was additional damage sustained during the multiple collision courses that Sulu had regularly set in order to clear a path in front of them.

Additionally, there was a seemingly endless pattern of charred blast points scattered across the surface of the heavy cruiser, particularly along both sides of the secondary hull and along the vulnerable warp nacelles. Wherever there had been a chance to partially breach the shield grid, high-powered Tholian plasma charges had landed with carefully guided precision. Both nacelles were dark and powerless, their warp plasma long since drained away into the empty vacuum of space.

"It's a good thing Constitution-Class vessels are built to take a pounding," said Captain Dougherty softly. "You and your people did _great_ Jim. There aren't a lot of people serving anywhere in Starfleet who could have done a better job on a mission like that. Lives were sacrificed, but it wasn't in vain. Your crew rescued a lot of helpless people."

"All commendations should be directed toward the senior members of my bridge crew," replied Kirk tersely. "Once we initiated our escape plan, Spock and the rest of them pretty much ran the show."

Dougherty and Kirk stood silently for a moment, watching the wounded bird that was _Enterprise_ on the bridge viewscreen. "Once your Chief Engineer restores minimal navigational shields, you'll at least be able to make it to Starbase Twelve," he noted reassuringly.

"Normally I would turn up my nose at the concept of being _towed_," growled Kirk irritably, exhaling slowly as he watched half a dozen work pods from the _Hood_ and _Potemkin_ move into position on screen, ready to provide assistance to Kirk's damage control parties. "However, this time I think that a little help is just what the fair lady needs. She certainly held together long enough to pull us out of the fire."

"Trust me Jim. A little time in space dock will do _wonders_. I've been there myself."

They could see small pinpoints of light reflecting off of space-suited crewmen – teams of specialists moving out into open space using EVA suits in order to begin tentative repairs. "Here's hoping we can seal off most of the major hull breaches along the outer sections. If we're successful, we'll at least be able to move some of the civilians out of our hangar bay."

"You look tired Jim."

"I _am_ tired!" roared Kirk, gaining control of his demeanor almost instantly after reacting with a strength of unpredictable emotion that would have raised at least one of Spock's eyebrows. "Let's grab a conference room and proceed with our debriefing," he suggested, still obviously unsettled by the amount of battle damage evident on the exterior hull of his starship. "I need to get back to my ship and supervise repair operations."

"Certainly," acknowledged Dougherty. "Although… I have heard on several occasions that your First Officer is well known for his competence in dealing with such matters."

Kirk hesitated, thoughts moving to those still injured. "I need to check in on my helmsman, Hikaru Sulu. Dr. McCoy told me he's going to be fine… but I want to see him anyway." He looked at Dougherty with what appeared to be a mixture of concern and dismay. "Would you like to know how _close_ to disaster we came? After Sulu and Chekov were injured, my _communications_ officer and I took over helm and navigational duties and flew the ship the rest of the way out. Everyone else was too busy manning other key operations." His chin came up sharply and his hazel eyes blazed. "But I digress… you have questions that need answering and a report to send to Starfleet, so let's get the paperwork over with."

_Watching James T. Kirk head back toward the turbolift, Dougherty nodded sympathetically.

* * *

_

_**Author's Notes:** We're down to 2, possibly 3 remaining chapters! Off the top of my head, I'm thinking 3. I don't think we should travel all this way through time and space just to end abruptly. Stay tuned, loyal readers! Your attention is MUCH appreciated!  
_


	25. Past Tense

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Past Tense

* * *

**

Beta Quadrant, Stardate 64333.4, Hobus Star System

* * *

_The small metal cylinder, rounded at both ends and approximately two meters in length, continued to float in a gentle orbit around the Hobus star. It had been placed there almost two centuries earlier and had been leaking trace amounts of Omega-powered radiation ever since. Only eleven inches in diameter, the device and its internal mechanism had been meticulously designed to house a temporal shield generator powered by a stabilized chain of Omega molecules. Under normal circumstances, the object would have remained fully cloaked and completely hidden from even the most sensitive scanning systems until its orbit finally decayed in another 300 years or so. Unfortunately, the device's creator had manufactured it with several deliberate, methodically precise flaws._

_There was a minor fluctuation in the magnetic field shielding the Omega power source, allowing tiny amounts of its powerful radiation to gradually leak through the outer, metallic hull casing. Normally the sophisticated equipment governing the power source automatically recycled all of the dangerous radiation, but that could only occur so long as the dangerous residue remained fully contained long enough to be reprocessed. In this case, minute amounts were constantly leaking through the magnetic containment system and out into space. From there, the intense gravity generated by the presence of the nearby Hobus star almost instantaneously absorbed the radiation. For nearly two hundred years the nearby yellow star had been repeatedly stimulated with the dangerous power of Omega. And with the passage of time the nuclear fusion burning at the heart of the sun slowly and inexorably began to change into something far more powerful._

_Eventually the first hints of its transformation became gradually noticeable. Unusual sunspot activity began to appear along the Hobus star's outer surface, and a significant number of massive solar flares began leaping outward toward the system's family of planets and moons. Unfortunately, the worlds orbiting around this particular sun were devoid of sentient life and severely lacking in most of the galaxy's coveted resources. One of the planets did contain significant deposits of a rare isotope known as decalithium, but since the system was essentially empty no one had discovered its presence over the passage of time. There were so _many_ stars and planets in the galaxy, after all, and only a finite number of space-faring races possessing the technology needed to detect it._

_As soon as the stardate hit 64333, the device's temporal shield automatically shut down according to a very specific, pre-programmed software code setting. For the next hour, the magnetic shield protecting the Omega power source began to fluctuate, releasing larger and larger amounts of hot radiation into the star. A secondary effect resulted from the increased radioactivity – the massive surge of unprotected radiation burned its way directly into subspace. At the very edge of the star's corona, the fabric of space began to come apart at the seams. Once sixty minutes elapsed, the magnetic shield around the cylinder's Omega power source returned to normal. However, the damage had been done. A variety of small, steadily growing temporal anomalies began to form, some of them spreading forward through time and space while others traveled backward._

It was at that precise instant the problem had first shown up on the _Relativity_'s sensors.

* * *

Beta Quadrant, March 2, 2154, Aboard the _Relativity

* * *

_

Captain Ducane smiled with recognition and a distinct note of relief as Frank Roberts materialized on his bridge transporter platform. "It's good to see you back aboard Commander," he stated warmly in greeting, noticing that the white shine in Roberts' eyes had vanished. Obviously after the successful completion of his mission, the link with Captain Data had at some point been severed. "Have you finished debriefing the NX-01 command crew?"

"Affirmative," the android noted with a firm nod. "We've prepared two sets of reports – one for the command logs that will eventually be released as public records and another that will be sent directly to the Admiralty so that it can be classified 'eyes only' and archived by Starfleet Intelligence." He stepped out of the transporter area and moved along the bridge's starboard walkway. "Captain Archer has agreed to continue his role as a contact for temporal agents in this universe… hopefully from his _own_ future from this point onward." He glanced over the hand railing, directing his gaze downward toward the busily working Lt. Commander Ingram below. "That is, _if_ there is a future for him to look forward to." He shifted his gaze back to Ducane. "Your last message indicated that trouble was brewing."

"So far the temporal damage is localized and affecting only one star system," responded Ducane with a relieved sigh. "However, something has happened near Hobus that directly affected events in both the Alpha and Beta Quadrants – a 3.95 percent change has already taken place in 24th century history, increasing all the way up to 7.44 percent by the 29th." He frowned with sincere puzzlement. "I had hoped that the tampering with this galaxy's history was over."

"Interesting," noted Roberts while crossing his arms in front of him. "Do you believe this new event is related to our presence here?"

"Unfortunately I'm afraid that it is," Ducane nodded grimly. He leaned over the railing, also looking down toward Ingram. "Tell him what we've learned Jess."

Ingram glanced up at them with a frustrated harrumph. "I reviewed the transcript of the Captain's interview with Soran. During that conversation, he directly specified that he had 'left a gift out there somewhere… a present for Picard'." She shook her head with obvious frustration. "Whatever he set up has obviously activated, because there are minor temporal disturbances spreading outward in all directions from the Hobus star system. Our mysterious unknown had to be temporally shielded as well, or we would have detected its Omega power source the instant he placed it."

Frank Roberts flashed a rare frown. "That may explain the temporal disturbances. But why would the timeline change in so significant a fashion?"

"Whatever happened was some sort of double whammy," replied Ingram. "There was a temporal incursion in the 24th century, and shortly thereafter multiple incursions in the 23rd. I'm working with the crew from the mirror _Relativity_ right now, accessing the updated historical files from the archives at Starbase Memory Alpha. We'll know everything we need to soon enough."

"Ensign Murry. Please contact Captain Data and have him beam aboard when ready," Ducane said, directing his statement toward the female operations officer sitting next to Ingram.

"Aye sir. According to my… counterpart on the other Timeship, they are planning to make a quick trip into the past. However, I'm certain the Captain will make himself available to us once he returns."

Ducane hesitated, thinking about the implications of the other vessel's sudden absence. "That will be acceptable," he agreed finally. "When Captain Data arrives, please direct him to Conference Room 'B'. After all, this is _his_ universe now and I would guess he'll want to continue having the final say on matters."

"Unless you have objections Captain, I would like to speak with you first," suggested Roberts. "There are a few additional items you should know."

"Certainly," Ducane agreed instinctively. He guided Roberts into the turbolift and the two of them waited patiently until the electrically whirring left descended three decks. Once the doors snapped open the two of them walked a short distance along one of the Timeship's corridors until they reached a small conference room. "We can talk in here," the Captain indicated with a sharp nod of his head. Medium level lighting snapped on in the room the instant automated sensors detected their presence.

Neither of them chose to sit. Roberts paused at the head of the long, rectangular table in the center of the room and leaned casually against it. "I realize you still have problems to resolve. Nevertheless, I have to leave," he said simply, making use of his infamous direct approach… a trait that both Kirk and Picard knew all too well.

Sighing heavily, Ducane smiled wryly. "I suspected as much," he admitted. "You've been away from your duties for some time now." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I owe you a lot… you've been a great help to us during this most difficult crisis. We couldn't have tracked Soran down in time without you."

"You can still reach me if you need to by utilizing your Timeship's subspace link," the android continued. "However, I do not know yet when I will be allowed to return to my post on our Council of Elders." He glanced out the observation windows, directing his gaze toward the sprawling length of the nearby Preserver vessel. "First I have to return the _Dokimasia_ and its test planet to the Council of Elders in this universe," he noted sharply. "After that, the Omega power source has to be removed from Soran's version of the Xindi super weapon so that it can be safely destroyed. Only after those tasks have been completed will I be able to return to the distant future in our universe. I'll use the _Thraex _to get home."

"At least you won't have to pretend you're the Sentinel when confronting this Council of Elders," chuckled Ducane. "_That_ would give you a serious case of déjà vu."

The android smiled at him. "This _is_ eerily similar to our original encounter with the Preservers," he acknowledged with electronic amusement. The mission, however, is extremely more complex. Data has been extremely busy preparing this Council for interaction with its counterpart in our universe. So far the Elders here seem open to our suggestions, but that is only because we promised them that we would take care of their Sentinel and Scholar problem."

"They should be pleased to learn we have successfully done so."

"Yes," said Roberts somewhat dubiously. "It remains to be seen whether additional allies of the Sentinel will run for cover or stick around and continue to try and cause trouble." He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Regardless of what they choose, the outcome will likely favor us. With the addition of so many former Borg drones to our work force, I do not think that this Council will miss the help of a few trouble makers on their projects… people who were no doubt dragging their feet on tasks anyway."

"Do what you have to do Commander," stated Captain Ducane confidently. He offered his hand to Roberts and they shook hands firmly. "_Thank you_ – and please pass along my gratitude to _all_ of the members of your team who helped. Without assistance, it would have been a lot more difficult to track Preserver technology and avert a temporal catastrophe in our universe." His eyes sparkled as his thoughts drifted to the current matter at hand. "Now I just have to make sure nothing happens to _this_ Milky Way."

"I would offer you a bit of advice before I depart," proposed Roberts unexpectedly. "Do not linger too long in this universe. You _must_ return to our galaxy as soon as possible and resume your own duties. Like you, the Starfleet Command here is highly trained and capable. Even if Soran caused this new crisis, it is now technically theirs to deal with… their jurisdiction." He paused for a moment, just long enough for Ducane to nod in agreement. "Also, Captain Data and his version of the Temporal Integrity Commission deserve to know that eventually a team of personnel from Starfleet – much like my own – will be asked to travel to the distant future and fill the void on this Council. As in our realm, humans have taken the Sentinel's seat away from him and now have an obligation to fill it. That is the Preserver way." The android's lips pursed tightly together. "You must tell them this."

"I will Commander."

"Who specifically is chosen to make that trip will be a decision that _this_ Temporal Integrity Commission has the luxury of selecting… in our case we were pressed for time and had little choice but to send me masquerading as the Sentinel." Roberts flashed Captain Ducane a firm nod of respect. "I will arrange to have the Krell and the Sentinel beamed out of your brig and aboard the _Dokimasia_. Eventually the Krell and I will return to our own universe. I would speculate that severe punishment awaits them there, as payment for their crimes."

Smiling warmly, Ducane nodded in acknowledgement. "Perhaps we will meet again, Commander?"

"Perhaps." With that final word, Commander Frank Roberts activated his neural transceiver and vanished in an emerald swirl of transporter energy… more than likely on his way over to the looming, inactive _Dokimasia_ still floating gently next to the _Relativity_.

Thomas Joseph Ducane watched him go. Then, after a reasonable pause in which he took some time to silently deliberate on the various issues still facing them, he touched his Comm-badge lightly with the fingertips of his right hand. "Captain to Lt. Commander Ingram, come in please."

"_Ingram here_."

"Jess, I want you to transfer a copy of all your sensor data to the computer in this conference room. We need to know what's going on in the Hobus system. If there's too much telemetry for you, I will help."

"_Acknowledged. My report will be ready in thirty minutes_."

"I'm going to hold you to that, Commander." Taking a seat next to a work station, Captain Ducane accessed her database and slowly but surely began to read. What he learned quickly filled him with an unexplainable sense of dread.

* * *

Ducane was still reading a half hour later when the conference room doors snapped cleanly open. Lt. Commander Ingram entered, followed closely by Captain Data. "How was your trip into the past, Captain?" inquired Ducane curiously.

He flashed an unexpected look of surprise at the android as Data responded by reaching out into the corridor and pulling a handheld anti-grav unit into the room. Attached to the small device was a slim cylindrical pod, approximately two meters in length. Since Data had chosen to move it using the anti-grav, there was no way to determine specifically how heavy it was without a direct scan. "We found this floating around the Hobus star in Starfleet's 24th century," stated the android Captain informatively. He lifted the handle he was holding and easily hoisted the device onto the conference table's surface right next to Ducane. "Temporal activity made it difficult to approach, but we retrieved it prior to detonation."

"What is it?" wondered Ducane curiously.

"It is a simple temporal shield generator that has been significantly enhanced."

"We've figured out what it does," piped in Ingram, her expression dark with concern. "With respect, you're not going to like what has happened, sir."

"Then fill me in so we can pool our knowledge together and figure out a course of action," replied Ducane coolly, waving everyone toward the empty chairs surrounding the table.

"To minimize confusion during our conversation, I left your mirror counterparts aboard my ship," the android announced almost casually as he took a seat. "They will continue to study the changes to our history even as we discuss matters here."

"Have you determined what this thing does?" Ducane's eyes drifted to the cylindrical probe sitting on the conference table and he studied its metallic surface carefully. Its outer, formerly gray hull had been bleached almost clear white by its prolonged exposure to a steady stream of intense solar radiation. There were thousands of tiny dark, charred patches scattered intermittently across the metal surface, small holes that appeared to have been burned clean through by something from inside.

"It is a bomb with several unique functions," responded Data curtly.

Ducane folded his arms, expression darkening with anger. "It was Soran, wasn't it?"

"Almost certainly," snapped Ingram grimly. She handed him a newly updated data-padd summarizing their latest findings. "He must have placed this thing _after_ we almost caught him the second time, to use as leverage in case he ran into us again." The blonde-haired temporal expert shook her head with disgust. "Captain, Dr. Soran still believed he was in _our_ universe when he planted this device in orbit of Hobus." Her eyes drifted uneasily to the floor beneath her feet. "It's _our_ fault this galaxy's timeline has shifted."

Immediately Ducane's hand rose to touch his Comm-badge. "Ducane to Ensign Paulson."

They waited patiently until the reply came. "_Paulson here_."

"Paulson, I realize that this request may sound a little odd. Nevertheless, please verify that Dr. Soran and the Krell are still in their cells."

"_They're still here_," Paulson reported a moment later. "_Why, are you expecting an escape attempt?_"

"Negative. I'm just making sure," the Captain decided. "Keep a close eye on them."

"_Always_."

"We have temporal shields around the _Relativity_," Ingram reminded him. "They're _not_ going anywhere."

"With Soran, you never know."

Shifting his gaze toward Captain Data, Ducane gestured toward the device sitting on top of his conference table. "What the _hell_ does this thing do?" he asked inquisitively.

Data turned and glanced expectantly toward Ingram. "Commander?" he asked, prompting her.

"It's a long-term temporal trap, very cleverly designed," Ingram stated crisply after pausing long enough to clear her throat. Her eyes flashed with anger as she remembered the specifics. "It was initially placed in orbit of the star at some point in the 22nd century – most probably in the very same time frame where we confronted the _Thraex_. Until Data's crew disarmed it, there was an internal, Omega-powered temporal shield generator in there, preventing us from detecting it. We never even knew it existed until its shield matrix shut down almost two centuries later. This is a very sophisticated piece of equipment, and it was completely hidden from even our best scanning devices."

Recalling Data's initial assessment, Ducane looked at him curiously. "A bomb with _multiple_ functions?"

Again the android remained silent. He turned to face Ingram and she smiled at his confidence in her.

"As you know, sir, Omega was strictly prohibited by Starfleet for centuries because of the danger its misuse – or abuse – presented to the surrounding environment. Until we developed a reliable means of time travel, any accidental explosion with Omega's level of power would have disrupted space/time for light years in all directions and effectively caused enough environmental damage to disrupt safe warp travel on a permanent basis." She took a deep breath and smiled, trying to put the best face on things. "However, once we came up with the temporal technology needed to go back and prevent accidents, the danger from Omega became minimal and its use was approved on all active duty fleet vessels."

"Soran knew all of this," guessed Ducane. "He was working with Kirk and Picard. They _gave_ him a second chance, and he must have used their trust to gain full access to our history while living with the Preservers."

Data nodded. "Undoubtedly."

Ingram frowned noticeably. "The temporal shield prevented us from detecting this thing until a pre-programmed subroutine activated on Stardate 64333. The initial purpose of this probe was to sit quietly out in space, slowly leaking trace amounts of Omega radiation into to the Hobus star. It did so for over two centuries." She touched the data padd she was holding and called up a new screen of design specifications. "When the preset stardate was reached, all shielding automatically deactivated and allowed the full output of the internal Omega power source to rupture subspace. At that point multiple temporal incursions were created and its presence became detectable to our sensors."

"The disruption of time and space around Hobus has quieted somewhat," added Data. "But there is a great deal of damage, along with several additional consequences."

Ducane's face paled at the mere thought of what Soran was capable of. "What kind of consequences?"

Ingram nodded insistently. "If Captain Data and his vessel hadn't returned through time and plucked this probe out of that star's orbit, the magnetic 'bottle' around the Omega molecule chain would have decayed to the point where the power source detonated. Effectively, warp travel in forty percent of the Alpha Quadrant would have become almost impossible. Preliminary estimates indicate that as much as twenty-two percent of the navigable space within the Beta Quadrant might also have been impacted."

Ducane shook his head with dismay. "Most of this doesn't surprise me," he growled irritably. "Soran spent the entire latter half of his career teaching himself how to blow up stars… it makes sense he would use the knowledge available to him in an attempt to hinder our pursuit." He glared at the smooth metal cylinder on the table top as if his stare alone could rectify matters. "We'll just go back farther," he stated suddenly and simply. "We'll go back and prevent him from ever placing this thing in orbit of Hobus."

He was caught by surprise when Data shook his head negatively. "When the shield deactivated, the Omega radiation surge filled that entire sector with temporal ruptures in space/time," the android informed him. "There is no way to predict what will happen if we attempt additional time travel within the affected centuries in the area of that star system. My crew and I have already taken a major risk pulling it out of there from the 24th century. We decided to do so because most of the damaging radiation had not yet flowed far enough forward in time. The damage at our arrival point was rapidly growing unmanageable, but we had little choice in the matter. Allowing Soran's bomb to detonate would have been disastrous and very likely impossible to undo."

Ingram handed Ducane an electronic padd showing him a map of the region and the timeline affected by the subspace ruptures. "Okay," the Captain mused thoughtfully. "You moved to a point in the 24th century not yet damaged by the subspace ruptures and managed to retrieve the device," noted the Captain eagerly. "So why _can't_ we travel back to a time _before_ Soran arrived in the Hobus system and wait for him. When he arrives to set his bomb, we'll nab him and everything after will shift back to normal."

"Soran thought of that too," countered Ingram with a frustrated sigh. "Captain, the damage to the fabric of space/time was designed to go _both_ ways – forward _and _backward. The affected areas have already reached back in time well before the point where we crossed over into this universe. Risking a trip now to the Hobus system during the damaged timeframe could result in _serious_ temporal paradoxes, the exact kinds of weird events we're tasked with preventing." She folded her arms in disgust. "Soran may not have known he was in a mirror universe, but he knew enough to make certain that any attempt to use time travel against him would almost certainly fail." She touched the padd's screen and another diagram appeared – this time a historical timeline map much like the one normally displayed on the bridge viewscreen. "Time has _already_ been rewritten… _several_ times."

"We're experts at this… we _have_ to try…" Ducane insisted, hesitating as he considered the implications of unpredictable temporal paradoxes. "We _have_ to try and correct this."

"If we do, we risk setting Soran loose on our galaxy again," cautioned Data softly. "Right now you've caught him and he's firmly in custody aboard a temporally shielded Timeship. However, if we go back in time and make a mistake trying to catch him… the results could be disastrous. Even one small error could rewrite the timeline improperly, and another version of Soran could end up running rampant. You and your crew could end up trying to apprehend him all over again. Factoring in the unpredictable nature of the ruptured areas of space and time, you might even have to search for him across multiple, diverging timelines."

"We _can't_ just let him win!" snapped Ducane heatedly, clearly irritated by Soran's strategy.

"He _hasn't_ won," Data responded firmly. "Although the trap he set has managed to cause some unexpected problems, our updated records indicate that the people living in our 24th century have managed to deal with the crisis. Soran's device lowered its shields at the preset time, allowing _us_ to catch and deactivate the bomb before it detonated. However, as we have since discovered, a steady Omega radiation leak into the Hobus star over the centuries gradually created a bomb of another sort – one that we were unable to stop."

"The gradual radiation leak destabilized the star, didn't it?" Ducane turned his head and swore softly.

Data nodded with a hint of sadness in his electronic expression. "An inevitable, Omega-charged supernova was the deliberate, planned result. Soran chose the Hobus star primarily because one of its planets housed large deposits of a rare isotope known as decalithium. In combination with his trilithium, the Doctor has managed to create an explosion that can spread to other star systems. As long as there are neighboring star systems with matter available to convert into energy, this particular supernova could theoretically continue spreading death and destruction across hundreds of light years."

Ducane frowned, continuing to look at the new data on the padd in front of him. "How do we stop something like that?" he wondered curiously. "The larger it gets, the more difficult it will be to defeat."

"Forgive me for answering your question with a question Captain," said Data flatly. "But in this case, I must do so. On one of your past missions, _how_ did your former Captain eventually manage to stop the entity known as the Overseer?"

"He used an artificial singularity, a man made creation that powered his runabout…" Ducane trailed off in surprise as the solution struck him. "A _black _hole…"

"Exactly. Our sensors detected another vessel in the Hobus system when we arrived," continued Data reassuringly. "It was a Romulan mining ship called the _Narada_, under the command of a Captain named Nero. We made certain they could not detect our presence or Soran's device, and verified that they recovered a reasonably large supply of decalithium prior to the star's destruction. Working in conjunction with Starfleet, the residents of the 24th century were able to manufacture a rare, dangerous substance known as 'red matter'. Together with a Vulcan named Spock they created an artificial singularity and reversed the outward course of the nova's destruction." Again he shifted his gaze toward Ingram, prompting her to continue with the explanation.

"Unfortunately these things never turn out to be simple," Ingram continued, watching Data for any trace of a reaction. "The _Narada_ and a Starfleet vessel called the _Jellyfish_ were pulled into one of the temporal ruptures and transported back to the mid-23rd century. They emerged at separate points in time, but the consequences of their presence have already been felt. The supernova Soran deliberately triggered changed the history of this galaxy once, but the people on those two ships emerged a century in their past and interacted with crux events, changing history a _second_ time from an _earlier_ point in history."

"Timeship crews _have_ the ability to repair subspace ruptures," protested Ducane. He had never in his careeer as a starship Captain felt so completely helpless.

"I don't mean to sound like a pessimist, sir," Ingram responded softly. "We would have to try and make many of those reparations within the event horizon of an active singularity… a black hole. Like everyone else in this business, I pride myself on minimizing mistakes in my work, but I draw the line at promising you perfection while we're in orbit around a maelstrom like that."

Their discussion continued for a time, _but it wasn't until he heard about the destruction of the planet Vulcan that Captain Thomas Joseph Ducane fully realized just how much had already changed in this fledgling, brand new Starfleet_.

* * *

Alpha Quadrant, March 3, 2154, Aboard the _Relativity

* * *

_

_Captain's Log, Stardate not yet relevant. It is with a deep sense of regret that I have ordered the _Relativity_ back to the El-Aurian star system. At the request of Captain Data, we will fulfill our sole remaining obligation to the people of this mirror universe before using our starship's temporal core to shift back into our own realm. The loss of Vulcan, amongst other historical changes forced on this galaxy's Federation by Soran's actions, continues to bother me greatly. Despite deep and lingering reservations, my fellow _Relativity_ Captain has assured me that his 29__th__ century equivalent of our Temporal Integrity Commission has matters under control. Even so, Soran's final surprise in the Hobus system has angered me more than anything else he has done during this crisis._

_Vulcan here has been devastated… a world completely obliterated! I debated the matter intensely with Captain Data for several hours. Each time I referred to the massive loss of life and land inflicted on the Vulcan people by Captain Nero, my android counterpart drew my attention back to the many disastrous and tragic events throughout our own history. Take the repeated conflicts throughout the centuries with the Romulans, Klingons and Cardassians, for example. Or an even more insidious enemy like the Borg. Data also briefly mentioned our Dominion war and the countless lives lost during that sad conflict. His android mind studied our database well, and still I pointed out that all of those things he considered to be such dark points in our history might still come to pass in his. After all, this universe has an obvious tendency to closely mirror our own in the absence of temporal tampering._

_Despite my best efforts we have been politely asked to leave… to go home. In the interim, Captain Data's version of our own government will continue to evaluate the altered timeline and the consequences such changes inevitably bring to future generations. I do not hold out much hope… my instincts tell me that they will choose to let Soran's changes stick. And even though the mere possibility of such a decision angers me to my very core, I have an obligation under Starfleet law to obey. This is my sworn duty. And after a deep and careful examination of my psyche, I have discovered with some surprise that it is the _emotions_ buried deep within my own heart that do not want to comply… that do not want to allow Soran to 'win'. Data's points, as is usually the case with positronic minds, were backed up with clear and undeniable facts… the immediate region of space surrounding the Hobus star system's destruction remains an extremely turbulent, unpredictable place._

_I take heart having discovered that the people living in this Federation are as strong as those in our own. In the end I don't believe that Tolian Soran actually 'won' anything. A very clever scientist was carefully maneuvered into destroying a Borg Collective that was out of control. We knew when the mission started that there would be consequences resulting from his actions, so the mission team's primary objective from the start was to do its best to minimize them. Since Soran's resources have been confiscated and he is in our custody, he will perpetrate no further acts of violence. My final action in this Milky Way galaxy that so closely mirrors our own will be to make damned certain that this evil Doctor never hurts anyone again_…

* * *

In the privacy of his quarters, Thomas Joseph Ducane leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath. "End log recording," he stated brusquely, listening to the corresponding electronic chirp from the ship's main computer as it accepted and processed his voice command. For just a moment, he stared across the small room at his jacket, lying rumpled on the edge of the bed where he had thrown it earlier. He had tried to relax himself several times, but his body was still tense from so much happening so quickly.

The words he had spoken into the log had been the absolute truth. Ducane _had_ conducted a thorough self-examination of himself, only to discover that many of his feelings on the Hobus matter were emotionally driven. In the aftermath of Soran's capture and the defeat of two major players like the Sentinel and Scholar, it had seemed for a time as though they had achieved an unexpectedly easy victory at little cost. As was usually the case, the consequences of their actions had eventually surfaced once Soran's dark 'secret' finally revealed itself.

"_You really have done an excellent job as Captain of this vessel_," said a soft, unexpected voice from directly behind him. "_I sincerely hope you realize that_."

Swiveling in his padded seat, Ducane caught sight of the isomorphic projection immediately. "I thought _you_ were busy negotiating with this universe's Council of the Elders," he stated, jabbing playfully at his companion's infamous positronic capabilities. "Or are you back in our universe, running the Starfleet Protocol in the other network?"

"_Actually I have learned to do both_," grinned the android, enjoying the Captain's mildly surprised reaction. "_It was plainly obvious to me that you would be disappointed and maintain reservations about how things worked out here, so I decided to take a few minutes out of my busy schedule and pay my respects to an old friend and colleague_."

"Data, you have no idea how much I appreciate that," chuckled Ducane lightly. "I mean, I just spent a few hours arguing with your mirror self, but it's good to see _you_ nonetheless." He sighed heavily, the weight of command still burdening his shoulders a bit more than usual. "I miss your objective outlook on humanity, not to mention the compassionate view of all things living that you regularly took… _take_."

"_You have taken that stance fairly well yourself, Thomas_."

"Not well enough," objected Ducane. "Even if we're in someone else's reality, I should have argued harder for at least an _attempt_ to undo Soran's trap and save Vulcan."

"_I disagree with your assessment. Even as Captains, there are often limits to what we can do._"

"Turning our backs demonstrates a lack of compassion for those lost."

"_Does it? There are many who would never even consider granting Soran a merciful end to his troubled journey through life. Most in your position would punish him harshly, _especially_ after what he did in the Hobus system_." Data watched carefully as the Captain continued to sit quietly in his chair, quietly mulling over troubling matters that he could not change. "_A long time ago when I first came aboard the_ Relativity, _you compared policing the timeline to 'playing God',_" he continued. "_Do you remember that particular conversation of ours?_"

"Yes, I do." Ducane nodded, recalling those words that now seemed so far in his past.

"_At the time, I asked you what it would be like to be an Admiral or a General in a brutal war… someone who was forced to make on-the-spot decisions about who lives and who dies. I reminded you that policing the timeline is very similar to combat in that regard – that we are flawed, sentient beings who must work with each other in order to render the best possible decisions_. _Then we have to find a way, as compassionate beings, to live with what we have done_."

"I hear you," replied the Captain a bit wistfully. "I guess the emotions that are raging through my blood right now will have to run their course a little longer." His eyes blazed with fire as he stared at his former commander. "I'm just not comfortable losing an entire world like Vulcan in _anybody_'s universe."

"_Just because you can't see a larger picture doesn't mean there isn't one_."

Rubbing his forehead wearily, Ducane smiled wryly. "I appreciate you coming to visit, old friend. Very truly I do, but that doesn't mean I'm in the mood for riddles."

"_Then I will offer you something better, something I hope will make you feel better. Do you recall what we were discussing on that long ago day, when I compared timeline monitoring to combat?_"

"Of course I do." Ducane continued smiling at the memory. "We were discussing whether or not to allow Admiral Janeway to use time travel to return _Voyager_ to the Alpha Quadrant years earlier than it otherwise should have arrived. Both you and Jess Ingram convinced a very doubtful me that everything would be worth it, in the grand scheme of things."

There was a prolonged pause as Data paused to let him digest the information. "_Captain Braxton commanded this Timeship before I did, and he was obsessed with Janeway for many years… even long after he stepped down as Captain of the _Relativity_. Do you remember why?_"

"Yeah, of course I do," Ducane responded somewhat curiously. "Braxton took this job as seriously as any of us, and he knew about Janeway's various run-ins with time travel. He misread the data on her, either intentionally or unintentionally, and used his biased conclusions to justify taking a shuttle back to destroy _Voyager_ before Janeway and her crew irrevocably altered the timeline and effectively 'destroyed our future'. In the process, he initiated a pre-destination paradox."

"_I have read Braxton's psychological profile, and I believe he simply misread the telemetry_," pointed out Data. "_As you point out, his trip into the 24__th__ century Delta Quadrant nearly caused the very disaster he hoped to prevent. In the end, it was the resourcefulness of Kathryn Janeway and_ Voyager_'s crew that disrupted the dangerous circle of events he set in motion. Braxton concluded that Janeway's use of time travel was dangerous to the timeline, and he used a very black and white, right or wrong belief system to arrive at that conclusion. In his mind, there was no justification for 'abusing' it, even though he served aboard a vessel that could go anywhere it wanted to… that could do the very things he considered to be criminal actions on Janeway's part_."

"I don't see your point," shrugged Ducane doubtfully. "So what? You promised me no riddles…"

"_Have you ever read through the notes left by the designers of this Timeship?_"

"Not in detail," Ducane confided with a chuckle. "Knowing you, you probably memorized them."

"_I did indeed_," nodded the isomorphic image of Data proudly. "_I have memorized quite a lot of things during my time here in subspace_." He paused dramatically and cleared his throat.

The action caused Ducane to shake his head with dismay. "Some things never change," muttered the Captain idly. "Positronic personalities, for example."

"_My point is that we do not always see the larger picture, even if it is right in front of us. Due primarily to Admiral Janeway's actions, Starfleet's research and development team received 'appropriated' Klingon technology along with specifications downloaded from the Admiral's modified shuttle. Additionally, they also received_ Voyager_'s logs of its entire journey through the Delta Quadrant more than three decades earlier than it should have. The engineers who designed our temporal core made several direct references to the Klingon device that the Admiral used to make her journey through time and space. If you remember our history, she made a very Captain Braxton-like journey to the Delta Quadrant – crossing both time and countless light years of space – in a matter of seconds. That technology, along with her crew's direct experiences with wormholes and quantum slipstream theory, played a key role in those early days, factoring in to the eventual design of our 29__th__ century Timeships_."

Ducane stiffened suddenly in his chair. "That _is_ an interesting point," he admitted reluctantly. "Moving back to your comparison to combat – many wars have been won because battles lost ended up inspiring the losers to fight all that much harder." He glanced out the window at the distant, glittering starfield. "Just because we don't see the big picture doesn't mean it isn't there."

"_Remember, it is the _Vulcans_ who value infinite diversity in infinite combinations_," continued Data. "_Right now, those who have survived here are gathering together and will build an entirely new Vulcan culture… one that will no doubt be just as unique, peaceful and honorable_."

"I don't mean to be a pessimist Data. When so few have survived, it would be very easy for the rest of them to die out… even a minor disease could erase their race from existence." The Captain held up his hands casually. "The 23rd century was a violent period in our history, and this one may be no different."

"_If things become that disastrous, people like me are in a position to intervene_."

Raising an eyebrow of curiosity, Ducane flashed a focused stare at his old friend. "Oh?" he asked.

"_Yes. I am fully capable of copying the entire Vulcan population from our universe and moving them here, just as we have created copies of our valued ship's Captains to aid Frank Roberts_."

Ducane laughed uproariously, suddenly feeling a whole lot better as he listened to the android's 'boast'. "I've learned by now _never_ to doubt you," he said, continuing to chuckle at the prospect of billions of duplicated Vulcans. "Thanks for coming back and cheering me up," he told his old friend with his familiar, dry smile. "It really means a _lot_ to me to hear from you once in a while, especially after such a dark tragedy. For awhile there, I really thought we had won a tremendous victory at little cost. Finding out that Soran had an ace up his sleeve was a real downer." He glanced at the android's precisely formed image, suddenly curious. "Do you regret your own role in this… deciding to shift Soran and the rest of us over here?"

"_No_." Data shook his head negatively and firmly. "_The Federation – indeed the fate of the entire Alpha Quadrant – hung on what we did or did not do. As you know, I reviewed countless other possibilities before settling on this one. If I had it to do over, I would make the same decision_." He studied Ducane's reaction. "_Even so it proved to be an extremely difficult decision to make, right up until the point where I detected the interference of the Scholar and the Sentinel. After that, it became what many humans would call a 'no brainer'_."

"Good." Ducane seemed significantly reassured. "I know I can live with the decisions I've had to make, so I'm glad to hear that you can too." He smiled mischievously. "I hope you don't spend all of your time hiding in subspace," he said teasingly. "It would be nice to see you once in awhile."

"_You will see me again_," promised Data with a small smile of his own. "_And Frank Roberts too. Starfleet is now an integral part of the Preserver culture, and we will receive all of the benefits that are due in return for our participation on their Council_."

"I had a pretty heated discussion with Captain Data," noted Ducane, his amused tone growing suddenly serious. "The intensity of the debate helped me feel him out, so I wouldn't be at all surprised if he volunteers for the Council position here in this Preserver distant future. I can tell from what he said that he's very interested in it, and we know for a fact that they're no longer going to run into a Sentinel problem." He scoffed at the prospect. "I think Frank Roberts' mirror self will continue to flourish as a Starfleet officer for as long as he wishes to serve."

"_I am glad you are feeling better_," stated Data truthfully, bowing slightly with respect. "_And I find myself hesitant to say good bye. Perhaps, 'until we meet again' would be more appropriate_."

"Yes it would. Take care Data." Thomas Ducane smiled as he watched the image of his friend fade.

* * *

Slowly and deliberately taking his time, glancing cautiously back and forth all the way, Dr. Tolian Soran eased out of the open turbolift and stepped onto the bridge. Ducane was already there, standing with his back to Soran and his hands clasped in front of him as he watched the constantly fluctuating patterns of the timeline map displayed on the primary viewscreen. Surveying the faces of the on-duty personnel, the Doctor appeared almost disappointed at the laid back atmosphere. "Shouldn't there be a crisis of some sort going on?" he asked finally. "Don't you have an uncontrollable supernova rampaging across this galaxy? Aren't you going to do something to stop it?" He cackled gleefully at his own words.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Ducane smiled wanly in response to Soran's taunt. "Actually, you appear to have underestimated people in general once again," the Captain replied, with just a hint of triumph deliberately included in his tone of voice. "The residents of the 24th century took care of the problem. We didn't have to do anything."

"You're _lying_." Soran's eyes shifted first to Jess Ingram, then to Ensign Murry, and then back to Ducane. Murry turned and gave him a cursory glance while maintaining her professional demeanor perfectly. Ingram never even bothered to turn around – it would simply offer him another face to taunt.

The Captain smiled at him and spoke two simple words. "Red matter."

Soran thought about the comment for a moment before exhaling with obvious disappointment. "It cannot be," he decided, desperately trying to convince himself that he was being deceived in some way. "It simply cannot be… at that time they were only beginning to understand…"

"Oh, yes it can," snapped Ducane. "Your Omega radiation successfully super-charged the star just like you anticipated, and the decalithium on one of the planets did indeed transform much of the resulting supernova into a self perpetuating chain reaction. However, some of that very same decalithium was mined prior to the explosion and used to create a supply of red matter." He scoffed openly at the former scientist. "The unusual sunspot activity is probably what attracted the attention of the miners in the first place. There is no other reason anyone would visit a wasteland of a star system like that one."

Appearing to shrug off his apparent failure, Soran harrumphed indifferently. "It was worth a try, and in the end I didn't need the diversion anyway. Perhaps you should send me back to the Preservers," he suggested. "I am still one of their citizens, after all." He flashed Ducane an evil leer. "And if you do, I _guarantee_ I'll find a way to escape again. Believe me, Captain Ducane, I very badly _want_ to resume my travels through the universe." He glanced wryly at the timeline map on the viewscreen. "Any universe will do, as long as there are _Borg_ to kill. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that there could be so many of them."

"Doctor, I can assure you that you are _not_ going back to the Preservers."

Soran appeared visibly rattled by the revelation. "You have no choice," he protested almost instantly. "The Preservers created me… I am a member of Work Guild 31554."

"It's good to see you caring about your _job_ again," snapped Ducane, his comment dripping with sarcasm. "However, since many of your crimes were committed in our space and time, I have received a special dispensation from Frank Roberts granting me full authority to prosecute you under our laws." Again the Captain smiled, and this time his expression was filled with clear disdain. "You may have noticed your cell mates are gone. Roberts took your Krell crew with him when he left. _I_ get to decide what is to be done with _you_."

Soran's face paled with concern. "What are you planning to do?" he asked, clearly intimidated by the prospect of justice at the hands of Starfleet. Even so, both his cynical nature and tendency toward condescension remained fully active. "Perhaps you can send me to one of those luxury prison colonies that the Federation is so famous for."

"I don't think so," said Ducane sternly, turning to face Ingram. "Commander?"

Ingram touched the keypad in front of her lightly and the viewscreen image shifted to a view of the planet they were currently orbiting. Soran recognized his home instantly. "El-Auria," he gasped, remembering his earlier conflict with the Borg Queen in this very same system. "Why have you brought me back here, to this copy of my world?"

"Because you're going _home_," the Captain informed him, gesturing with a thumb toward the upper starboard walkway. "Our transporter system has the ability to 'reintegrate' multiple copies of the same person." He chuckled lightly as Soran's eyes widened with terror at the prospect. "You're not the only one who attempts to manipulate time, after all, or Starfleet would never have come after you in the first place. No… I'm afraid that temporal crimes occur on a regular basis. We're used to capturing multiple copies of people – those who visited different time periods or those who were simply foolish enough to return to the same point multiple times. During those occasions we use our transporter to reintegrate these types of prisoners into a single person, hopefully giving memory and control of the new, single body to the copy with the best chance for rehabilitation."

"You can do that?" Suddenly, the previously confident Tolian Soran appeared to be an extremely upset man on the verge of passing out. Ingram swiveled in her seat expectantly, sincerely hoping he would.

"Of course we can. We're going to beam you into the peaceful version of yourself on the surface and allow his memories and will to take control of you."

The Doctor pointed helplessly toward the image of El-Auria gently rotating on the viewscreen. "But _that_ Soran on the planet is not _me!_" he protested angrily. "He is an _alternate_ of me… a life form from a _different_ universe."

"He is a loving, caring you," smiled Ducane confidently. "Our sensors have already verified that your DNA is compatible, and you have already voluntarily shared with us your future plans. Left to your own will, you will never stop trying to resume your attempts to destroy life if we are foolish enough to leave you with an opportunity for escape." He ascended the small flight of stairs in front of him and leaned against the hand railing to his left. "So we're not going to offer you one."

"No, no… I won't let you… I _protest!_" shouted Soran, backing anxiously toward the turbolift. The two security officers standing in front of it each grabbed an arm and held him firmly in place.

Placing his hands on his hips, Ducane glared at the El-Aurian scientist with a withering stare. "Doctor, you can either _walk_ up to that transporter platform willingly and stand in place long enough for us to complete your transporter trip to the surface," he stated sternly, "or I'll order my security team to stun you into submission and then _drag_ you up there."

Wimpering and eventually beginning to sob out of desperation, Soran tried his best to decide. It took him a few minutes, but he finally obeyed instructions and ascended the starboard walkway toward the transporter platform located on the far end.

After he faded away in a sparkling blue glow, Jess Ingram rose from her seat and met Ducane on his way back. "You didn't _have _to enjoy scaring him so much," she chuckled lightly.

"Yes I did."

"And you certainly weren't obligated to offer him so merciful a sentence."

Ducane's mouth tightened into a thin line of barely contained rage. "Our compassion for all living beings is one of the primary reasons we will always defeat people like him, even if it ends up costing us. In a way, Soran was a victim too. Not even death could end his pain." He regarded her thoughtfully. "How is your research coming? Can we identify all of the people down there with inactive Borg implants and safely beam them out of the bodies without anyone noticing?"

"Trust me Captain. It will be a piece of cake," promised Jess Ingram with a fully satisfied smile. "There are only several hundred targets, each of them partially assimilated. It was just enough of a Borg presence to allow the Queen to eavesdrop on key locations. When her link to the drones was severed, they probably went right back to their old lives with short term memory loss."

"Good. Proceed as soon as you are ready." Turning on his heel, the Captain vanished into the turbolift and allowed his bridge crew to resume their normal operational duties.

* * *

Alpha Quadrant, March 3, 2154, El-Aurian Home World

* * *

Vialla Soran and her two children were seated comfortably in their living room on a large, brown-toned sofa watching the evening news on a viewscreen when she heard her husband fall upstairs. She had heard lots of noises from other rooms during her years as a wife and mother, so it was easy for her to distinguish between them and recognize what was happening. A mother with young children almost always swiftly learned to do just that. As far as she had known, her husband had gone upstairs to read up on the latest editions from some of his scientific journals. Then she heard the loud, obvious thump of a body falling and become instantly concerned. Ignoring the woman talking on the news broadcast about local school issues, she leaped to her feet and handed her young son to daughter Nica.

"Take care of Tonner for a moment," she instructed calmly, hiding her growing apprehension. "I'm going to go look in on your on your father."

"Good. He'll get a look into my world." Nica shrugged her shoulders casually and accepted the assignment along with the smiling toddler.

"Ma ga dahh bah," Tonner stated happily and conversationally, instantly grabbing one of the big blue buttons on Nica's silk blouse. He manipulated it clumsily, focusing all of his attention on the colorful object. "Bah da dahh."

Hurriedly Vialla ascended the spiral stairway leading up to the second level and moved down the wide hallway at the top toward her husband's office. She found him lying on the floor, and even though he appeared at first glance to be uninjured he was obviously still shaking some sort of dizziness out of his head. "Oh my," the Doctor gasped, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself. "I don't know _what_ that was, but I hope it's over."

"What happened?" The concerned wife in her was out in full force, and Vialla put a hand around her husband's shoulders and helped him slowly climb to his feet. "I heard you fall…"

"I got up to get a cup of ale," Soran told her, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to clear his blurred vision. "I felt a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea." He glanced down at his hands, studying his fingers carefully while opening and closing them repeatedly. "I could swear my body was shimmering with some sort of eerie blue glow."

"Was it some kind of electrical shock?"

"Honestly, I don't know what it was," the Doctor admitted. "However, everything appears to be fine now and I find myself uninjured." He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly to him. "So you can go back to watching the news, my dear," he suggested calmly.

"Maybe _you_ should take a break," suggested Vialla, reaching up and brushing a stray lock of graying hair out of his eyes. "I don't know how you can concentrate on all of that _technical_ data for so long…"

"Maybe I will," smiled Soran warmly. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "I'll be down in a few minutes, and then we can play with the children until their bedtime."

"As long as you're certain everything is all right."

"I'm certain."

Soran watched her backtrack down the hall and then head down the spiraling, wooden staircase with a warmth and peace in his heart that he wished he could keep forever. Then he glanced down at his hands again, trying to decide if he had hallucinated the blue sparkle that he had briefly seen there.

_But if he had simply imagined the experience during a mild dizzy spell, then WHY had there been a distinctly audible electronic humming?_

There were also new, vague images and memories still prodding his mind that he couldn't quite get a handle on. Every time he felt as though he was on the verge of remembering something vitally important, they faded away into the background of his mind, remaining just out of reach. Finally the strange memory fragments faded altogether and Soran shrugged the matter off completely, deciding to join the rest of his family. Smiling contentedly, he headed for the stairs.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:** Did you LIKE this Chapter? I sincerely hope so, because I've worked my proverbial butt off twice now trying to salvage Trek canon. It took me TWENTY-TWO chapters in "Eternal Soul" to try and fully explain WHY the 29th century time cops never tried to stop Admiral Janeway._

_This time, it took me TWENTY-FIVE chapters to explain why Starfleet's temporal division chose not to interfere in the events of the most recent motion picture: "Star Trek 2009"._

_And there's still ONE more chapter coming before this story officially ends!_

_The key elements from the lead up to "Star Trek 2009" that are referenced in this chapter come directly from the "Star Trek: Countdown" prequel that was issued in comic book format. The link to page 1 of the "Memory Alpha" summary can be found at:_

_http: / / wiki/Countdown,_Number_One_

_I have to tell you. A large part of this storyline – specifically this particular Chapter – was inspired by my loyal colleague in arms Le'letha. She went to see the new movie (got in a day early, as a matter of fact), and sent me a PM telling me that it was worth every penny and all the waiting. So as I began to expand the storyline for "Infinite Diversity" I made a decision to do my best to link the traditional Trek universe we know and love directly to the new movie._

_The movie was almost perfect, but two minor things bugged me:_

_1. What would cause a supernova capable of destroying multiple star systems, perhaps even an entire galaxy? Unless "Q" decided to start tearing up everything in sight, nothing less than an Omega-infused disaster could accomplish that – spreading an explosion across light years of space. Fortunately for me, the villain I happened to have chosen for this story just happened to have access to Omega along with a notorious penchant for blowing up stars!_

_2. Why were there no temporal Starfleet Timeships in the movie? It might have made for a slightly more complex plot, but I guess we have regularly seen that motion picture screenplays have limitations that freelance writers do not. Still, it would have been amusing to see Nero foiled at every turn by people who had more technology than he did._

_In resolving the issues I had with the 2009 movie, I decided to try and write something adventurous and realistic. (If you can call alternate universes, duplicates of people, and time travel in general realistic!)_

_As I mentioned, one more chapter is on its way with what I hope will be a bit more light-hearted conclusion to this deep, dark sometimes out-of-control story._

_A few more comments will come at the end of the next Chapter. But THANKS AGAIN SO MUCH, folks, for stopping by and reading. I sincerely appreciate all of the readers and feedback I have received. If you know someone who is missing Trek, just route 'em to my profile!_

_Sincerely,_

_SoT_


	26. Explorers

_**Author's preliminary notes:** It seems impossible that another story is concluding, but it is. I am more than a little nostalgic this evening, looking back on all that has come before this final moment... this has truly been a really fun series of events in my life. My tribute to "Star Trek" is now complete. There will be a little more to comment upon after the final chapter. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy the conclusion to "Infinite Diversity"._

* * *

**Star Trek Enterprise: Infinite Diversity**

**Explorers

* * *

**

Alpha Quadrant, March 3, 2154, Aboard the mirror NX-01_ Enterprise

* * *

_

"So that's it," stated Captain Jonathan Archer firmly, dropping the printout he had been holding up for emphasis on the table in front of him. "Starfleet is completely satisfied with our efforts to reduce piracy in the merchant lanes surrounding Risa… in their eyes we've had a pretty successful run."

"Good," said Dr. Phlox with a deep frown. "It's hard to sit down there amidst all of the people having fun, knowing there are others with hidden weapons moving through the crowd. It's unnerving to say the very least."

Hoshi chuckled at his demeanor. "How do you think _I_ feel?" she asked him in response. "I was stalked by some of those people, you know."

The Doctor shrugged. "If I recall events correctly, you had the only phase pistol available to us in your possession throughout that entire incident."

"I used it too," gloated Hoshi with a confident grin.

"You all did good work as usual," Archer finished quickly, realizing his people were getting itchy to end the meeting. "Be proud of yourselves. There are a lot of civilians who owe their safety to us." He nodded with his usual confidence. "Are there any questions?"

"Yeah," nodded Travis Mayweather, his wide smile matched only by the twinkle in his eye. "Now that the villains have been disposed of, do we get to spend some actual time vacationing on Risa?"

"Hear hear!" chipped in Commander Tucker. Seated next to him, T'Pol glanced at the table and worked very hard to maintain her cool, emotionless expression. "What?" the engineer asked, instantly noticing her reaction. "I suppose you're like Malcolm… you think reading tech manuals _is_ a vacation."

"No, I too could use some time off," T'Pol responded, noticeably surprising Tucker.

Archer picked up the portable scanner lying next to his paperwork and studied it for a moment. "Well what do you know," he began, a smile also appearing instantly on his face. "It appears as though our next assignment doesn't begin for another two weeks. I guess we'll have to stick around and have some real fun… a lengthy break from regular duties. And this time, _without_ having to watch our backs."

"That's a relief," breathed Malcolm Reed, his usual terse, thin-lipped self. "I'll be able to take apart the photon launchers… the working parts need a serious lubrication job." He glanced at a confounded Tucker and added, "Between visits to the surface, of course."

"I knew it," the Commander concluded triumphantly. "Malcolm's idea of vacation is… more work!"

"There will be time for _everyone_ to take at least a week's break and still get caught up on normal duties up here," Archer promised. He glanced patiently around the large, circular wooden conference table. "Are there additional questions?" Everyone remained silent, obviously eager to move on to other things. He motioned to dismiss those present and watched everyone lift out of their chairs in a seemingly unified group. Apparently, he concluded silently, all meetings tended to be boring and tedious… even the ones where positive outcomes were the primary subject for discussion.

"I'm telling you," Tucker told Malcolm as the two of them headed for the exit, "those launchers will be good for another month at least. I looked at 'em myself, and there's very little wrong with them."

"Unless they jam in the middle of a fight," harrumphed Reed.

"We're orbiting _Risa_," Trip countered with a hearty laugh. "Not Kronos, for crying out loud."

Archer raised a hand and waved at the Lieutenant. "Malcolm, would you remain behind for a moment?"

"Certainly sir." The security specialist nodded respectfully at Tucker. "We'll talk about the photon launchers later, I guess."

"Yes," said Trip firmly, "we _will_. And then we're going down to the surface to see if anyone down there is still selling drinks with little umbrellas in them. My bet is that we'll find what we're looking for." Smiling with his usual boyish charm he exited out into the corridor.

Reed remained where he was for a moment before turning toward the still seated Captain. "What can I do for you sir?" he asked curiously.

Waving in the direction of a stray empty chair, Archer's mood darkened slightly. "The topic we are about to discuss does not leave this room… am I clear?"

"Crystal, sir." Reed appeared a bit apprehensive as he reseated himself. "Either the others are very good at acting, or you and I are the only two who didn't have our memories cleared by Captain Data."

"We're the only two," confirmed Archer. "Everyone else was conditioned by the crew of the _Relativity_; all memories of our adventures to the Tholian home world and the subsequent journey to Kovar have been completely erased." He shook his head with dismay. "I argued that our memories should also be reset, but Data overruled me."

The obvious tension displayed on Reed's face transformed almost instantly into an expression of understandable puzzlement. "Why?" he asked with understandable curiosity.

"They had to let us go… to send us back to our own century so that they could continue with their study of the timeline changes," replied Archer with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Data wanted at least one contact here on this ship, despite the fact that Starfleet isn't supposed to know about the Preserver's subspace network until well after the 30th century." He exhaled slowly, mentally reviewing the entire affair. "Our 'guests' from the alternate universe discovered it accidentally in their 29th century after their original battle with the Sentinel. They've kept it a closely guarded secret ever since. Here in our universe, we're keeping a 22nd century ace up our sleeve primarily because history hasn't totally reconfigured yet. And even after things do settle down, it's always good to have options."

"A very _dangerous_ option," Reed ventured cautiously. "Tactically, our enemies would love to have such knowledge available to them. There is great _risk_ involved with this sir."

"I know." Archer too looked more than a little uneasy at the prospect.

"With respect sir, what have you told Starfleet?"

"Essentially nothing." The Captain played with the printouts setting on the table in front of him. "I spoke with one colleague in Starfleet Intelligence – a friend from my Academy days. We decided that the three of us are all who have to know for now. We're both going to officially include private provisions in our wills to pass the information along to a successor in case something happens to us." He smiled a bit ruefully. "We are in a profession that gets extremely hazardous on occasion, after all."

His mind running rampant with dozens of possibilities, Reed cocked his head idly. "And me, sir? What do I need to do?"

"Nothing," stated Archer honestly. "If I need to discuss the matter with someone, your knowledge will enable me to do just that – even if we end up serving on different vessels someday. I took you with me to witness the battle against the Preservers primarily so that you would understand the scope of what it is we're dealing with." He paused momentarily, allowing the tactical officer time to digest his perspective. "Captain Data reviewed the matter pretty thoroughly and assures me that the cybernetic Queen whose Collective would have destroyed our future has been successfully liberated and recruited as an ally. She will effectively manage security protocols that govern the use of network resources. So even if our enemies do discover the existence of Preserver subspace technology, they will still be unable to utilize those resources as weapons of war."

"You and your colleague at Starfleet Intelligence can discuss matters of this nature as well," pointed out Reed cautiously. "It makes me nervous to be the third person to know about all of this, primarily because it's just adding to the number of people in the loop."

Archer's frown darkened considerably. "Trust me, Malcolm, I _need_ you to know."

"_Why?_" Judging by his expression, the Lieutenant was truly perplexed.

"Because, Malcolm, your old friend Harris may choose to contact you again. If he does so and reveals to you that he has knowledge of our recent adventures _or_ if he asks you _anything_ about the subspace network, I want to know about the situation immediately."

"Harris? I haven't heard from him in some time. He doesn't approve of my ongoing loyalty to you, and knows full well that anything he tells me will be fully disclosed. I told him so last time we clashed."

"Nevertheless, this 'Section 31' group exists within Starfleet and it's not going away. They have repeatedly demonstrated a nasty habit of finding out things that the rest of us cannot. The details of our recent mission and the existence of the network are both items of interest that a man like Harris would be unable to resist exploring. I want to test him and his covert operations. I want to see if they can discover anything about a mission that has been completely covered up – especially since we did it with the help of our friends in the 29th century."

"With respect sir, why is Harris our responsibility?"

"Because, based on what I've observed over the years, there is no one else keeping an eye on Harris. I've checked around with the Admiralty at various points during our visits to Earth. No one wants to admit to a connection with these people or even acknowledge that they do indeed exist. So you and I are going to make damned certain that they don't find out about what just happened with our timeline. The only possible way Section 31 can find out is if they _also_ have contacts in the future."

Malcolm Reed nodded with understanding. "I agree with your analysis, sir. It is best to be cautious." His thoughts drifted back to the incidents in his past with the mysterious Starfleet officer – one who acted covertly in Starfleet's best interests without their approval… occasionally even causing more harm than good. "Trust me sir, if I hear anything at all from him, you'll be the first to know."

"That's all I ask." Archer turned toward the windows and studied the glittering star pattern displayed there. "It was quite an adventure, wasn't it?"

"Bloody right it was," Reed responded with a chuckle. "Sneaking into Tholian space was a much more interesting assignment than policing Risan space and putting an end to petty pirate operations. The others will never know what they've forgotten." He shook his head. "And the sheer amount of power wielded by those two Preservers… well, it still boggles my mind."

"That's why we will remain wary Malcolm, and fully alert. Just in case."

"Aye, sir."

"Dismissed."

Archer watched him go and sat quietly by himself in the conference room for a few minutes longer, still sorting through all of his thoughts. Everything had happened so quickly at first, and now it was all apparently over. _We left Earth hoping to see things no one else ever had_, he remembered, thinking of those early days that now seemed so long ago. _And boy did we ever get our wish_.

After a time he rose from his chair, smiling, and trotted out into the corridor on the way back to his quarters. He made certain to stop by the galley first and pick up a few pieces of cheese for Porthos.

* * *

Alpha Quadrant, March 3, 2154, Aboard the _Relativity

* * *

_

Like the powerful, brightly-lit Timeship that she was, the _U.S.S. Relativity_ softly transitioned into subspace and eased almost instantly out of the mirror universe and back into its own. Their database contained plenty of information to guide them through the return trip, as provided to them by the isomorphic projection of their android friend who now dwelled primarily in subspace. Once she verified the current pentatonic coordinate set matched the corresponding statistics from home, Lt. Commander Jess Ingram nodded and relaxed slightly. _We're back at last!_ She thought with a sigh of relief. She shifted her eyes to Ensign Murry. "Take over the bridge Ensign," she said cheerfully. "You take us back to the 29th century, and _I'll_ report our progress to the Captain."

"Aye sir," noted Murry with a cheerful grin. "You've got yourself a deal!"

It took Ingram a few minutes to fulfill her promise, since she had to stop by her own quarters just long enough to retrieve a colorfully wrapped package. In the end, she had settled on paper containing lots of deep blue and green patterns, intermixed with an occasional swirl of red stripes. Pastels like pink and lighter shades of blue were totally appropriate for birthdays, but her common sense instincts and prolonged experience working with him suggested that Thomas Ducane would object to a gift wrapped in pink. Male starship Captains tended to be like that for some odd reason… _all_ of them.

When she finally arrived at his quarters, she paused for a few brief seconds before keying the door chime. He was apparently awake and already busily attending to the tremendous quantity of paperwork generated by their most recent assignment, because she heard an immediate "Come in!"

Touching the entry button on the keypad, she allowed the doors to part and then walked into his quarters with a comfortable smile on her face. She knew he would hate the fact that someone knew his birthday, which was one of the reasons she had gone out of her way to plan for the event. "We've crossed back into our home universe," she reported, watching Ducane promptly set his workstation to stand by mode. He folded the fingers of his hands together and swiveled in his seat to face her, raising an eyebrow at the sizeable package she had brought with her.

"Well the transition this time was pretty unnoticeable and painless," he observed dubiously. "Apparently it doesn't have to be a rough ride unless someone chooses to make it one."

Ingram laughed despite a firm effort not to. "Data already told us he needed time to allow Soran to get away," she chuckled lightly. "That's why he hammered us with his force field… he wanted the Doctor to think he was safely away from us."

The Captain shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Are we still in the 22nd century?"

"Temporarily," nodded Ingram. "I left Ensign Murry in charge of returning us home." Her eyes drifted to one of the windows, where the leading edge of a dark green energy rift had suddenly appeared. "I would say we are only a minute or so away." She raised the carefully wrapped box in her hands with its bright red bow. "Don't you want to know what's in here?"

"Of course," replied Ducane coolly, catching her somewhat by surprise with his unexpected curiosity. He reached for the box. "What is it?"

"A belated birthday present," she informed him and then cautiously reconsidered her answer. "Or, depending on where Ensign Murry brings us out of time warp, perhaps an early one."

Ducane was already eagerly tearing paper off of the box, opening the gift as speedily as possible. "I thought the crew already knew how I feel about birthdays," he stated idly, glancing up at her with a wary eye. "You're breaking one of my primary rules by doing this."

"_Not_ publicly," said Ingram with a light laugh. "On a starship, that's all that counts."

Pointing toward the door with a thumb, Ducane looked at her quizzically. "Are you telling me that no one saw you walk down the corridor with this?"

"Perhaps," she mused thoughtfully. "But no one on this deck is currently off duty. That's why I specifically chose this time to approach you. All they know is that _someone_ I know is getting a gift."

He inhaled deeply, struggling to believe her. "What about the grapevine? You should know better than anyone that ship wide gossip is almost impossible to prevent."

"Trust me Captain, no one knows you're getting a birthday gift."

"Okay," he concluded finally, still watching her suspiciously as he finished tearing the remaining paper free from a large, cardboard box. "Because… well, that's the kind of thing that humanizes a Captain," he informed her tentatively. "I've got my omnipotent, intimidating reputation to protect, after all."

"Of course, Captain. Rest assured, your image will not suffer." There was a sparkle in her eye that he wasn't sure he liked seeing… a mischievous glint that was so completely like her.

Carefully opening the box, Ducane stared at the contents for a moment, clearly surprised. His eyes widened in astonishment as he lifted the carefully constructed, wooden shape out of its box and then raised it even higher so that he could give it a more thorough inspection. Soft metallic chimes sounded as he did so. "This is… this is… well, I don't know what to say Jessica," he gasped, flashing her a satisfied, swiftly widening smile. "This is absolutely _beautiful!_ Thank you so _very_ much!"

"I figured you would like it, sir."

Rising to his feet, Captain Ducane quickly removed the picture hanging on the wall above his bed and held his new, ticking clock in its place. The entire outer frame was made of what appeared to be maple wood, carefully carved and formed to house the silver and gold metal of the clock mechanism. "For the commander of a Timeship, this is indeed a fitting gift. I'll never be able to thank you enough!"

"You're most welcome Captain." Jessica smiled proudly, having known in advance he would appreciate the thought. "Remember our Deep Space Nine mission a few months ago?" she asked curiously. "During that crisis, I remember you telling me about your time as a small boy on your parents' farm. You said that – during times when you were stressed or nights when you simply couldn't sleep – you'd go down to the lower level in your parents' house and relax on the sofa near their grandfather clock. You said you always felt safe there."

"Yeah," grinned Ducane, clearly pleased by her taste in wood as well as her gift choice. "That sofa was always my safe haven. I felt as though I could leave all my worries behind for some odd reason. The soft tick-tock of a clock would drive some people crazy at night, but for me that sound always put me quickly to sleep on nights when I just couldn't get there on my own."

Jessica nodded with understanding. "I've been meaning to get you one of these for over a year," she added. "Each one of them is a unique, hand-crafted original – constructed completely by a dedicated clocksmith. I found it in a small shop run by a team of antique lovers at a shop in the Dakotas back on Earth. They promised me that as long as you keep it wound each day, the pendulum will always swing and the clock will keep near perfect time." She pointed at the clock's hour and minute hands. "The time will need to be adjusted slightly on occasion. The jewelers told me that if they didn't retain the imperfections of the original model, then it wouldn't truly be authentic."

"The Dakotas, huh?"

"That's where my own family originates from." She studied him with mild concern, clearing her throat before treading into the dangerous territory she had deliberately avoided up until now. "I noticed that you didn't sleep much during our recent mission, so I'm hoping that you'll make immediate use of your new gift and catch up on your rest."

"I see we're breaking all _kinds_ of rules today," growled Ducane suddenly, mildly irritated by her lecturing tone of voice. He was still holding the simple, regal looking clock against the wall in an attempt to find the perfect spot for it. Still, he turned long enough to shake an index finger in her general direction. "_You_ more than anyone know I don't like mother hens hovering around me, either."

"Then with respect sir, please get some shut eye!" she told him rather unceremoniously. "I can tell you're a little upset, and I believe that it's because you know I'm _right!_"

Ducane laughed for a moment, unable to stay mad at her know matter how hard he wanted to. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They just stood there in the middle of his quarters, listening to the soft tick-tocking sound from his new clock. "All right, all right," the Captain chuckled, watching the staunch determination reflected in her expression with professional interest. "Your message has been clearly received, Commander." He turned the wooden frame over so he could examine the back of the clock's mechanism, where a small rectangular panel along with buttons and a winding knob was clearly visible poking through the rear. "I am very grateful that you took the time to go out of your way and get me one of these. Goodness Jess, these days most people just replicate stuff. Your adventure to the Dakotas makes this a much more special gift – one that I will cherish and pass on to my children some day."

Ingram blushed slightly, shifting her feet slightly as she realized her emotions were showing on her slightly reddened cheeks. "Replicated gifts don't mean as much to me either," she told him before turning firmly toward the door. "If you need me, I'll be on the bridge. I've been sleeping fine, by the way, so strongly suggest you take a shift for yourself and rest up. The paperwork can wait. You never know when someone else will begin to meddle with time and space."

"Hopefully, we'll just be investigating and repairing minor anomalies for a while," suggested Ducane hopefully. "I'm thinking of specifically requesting time off from Starfleet. This crew has been through an awful lot." He smiled warmly at his First Officer. "But then again, we won't be able to maintain our reputation as the 'go to' team if we demonstrate too much of a desire to goof off." He continued to smile despite his earlier moodiness, with spirits visibly lifted after receiving and holding his new clock. "Thanks again for the gift Jess… you're the greatest!"

"No problem." The exit doors parted in front of her and she vanished into the corridor, leaving him behind in his quarters to finish hanging his new toy all by himself.

It didn't take Thomas Ducane very long to do just that. And when he was done, he decided to stop by the galley under the pretense of getting something to eat so that he could check in on his crew and even eavesdrop a little bit. He was curious as to how well they were handling matters after so critical a mission and sincerely wanted to just listen to the background noise of people casually conversing with each other. A member of the ship's engineering team passed him on his way into the eating area, and the Captain flashed him a warm, confident smile.

"Captain," the thin, dark-haired crewman replied, nodding sharply in his direction. "How do you like your new clock, sir?"

Ducane stopped in his tracks for a moment, completely at a loss for words. Then he laughed so loudly that people heard him throughout the galley and all the way down to the far end of the corridor.

* * *

Preserver star cluster 112, Council of the Elders, 5.2 million years in the future

* * *

When Frank Roberts finally returned to his own universe and time frame, he took a few minutes to safely deliver Ishiik and the rest of Soran's Krell contingent into official Council custody. Upon entering his office, he discovered a message from Data waiting for him. Apparently his friend and colleague wanted very much to meet with him to discuss matters – most probably the primary topic would be recent events that both had participated in. Since the subspace version of Data could appear virtually anywhere, Roberts replied with a request that his fellow android meet him in the Council chambers. He was on his way there anyway, anxious to brief his squad of Starfleet Captains and the rest of their team.

It was far easier for him to access the Council chamber from a rear entrance, and so Frank Roberts did precisely that. He entered through a large door high up on the balcony level, moving toward the walkway that led to the various sectioned chambers around the massive, domed room's perimeter. The distant room below was spacious and almost completely filled with thousands of seats, and the additional room available in the upper balcony increased the room's capacity even more. Roberts estimated that large number of additional seats surrounding him increased the Council chamber's total seating capacity by at least another thirty percent. He was about to look for a stairwell and descend toward the main chamber below when the sound of Data's voice caught his ear.

"_We can speak up here, Commander_."

Roberts turned immediately, noticing that the familiar, isomorphic image of Data had appeared several paces behind him. He glanced over the railing to his left, noticing that there was already a small group of people seated in front of the distant stage far below them. As usual, he noted with satisfaction, his team of Captains had chosen to arrive early. They were always prepared and fully capable of handling anything he tossed there way, and that was primarily why the vast majority of their projects accepted while living in the distant future had turned out to be such smashing successes.

"It is good to see you again Data," noted Roberts with obvious approval. "My negotiations with the Council in the mirror universe went extremely well, primarily due to your efforts in creating a preliminary treaty. The first supply of former Borg drones is scheduled to cross over into our space early next week – all of them have volunteered to come over here in the hopes of building a new life for themselves. Most are refugees who would be pursued and destroyed by Borg enemies if they returned to their own planets."

"_Dr. Kalita Rama, with her original memories restored, has helped matters considerably_," Data replied. "_It is difficult for me to take credit for something that just seemed to evolve out of common sense. The destruction of the Scholar and the capture of the Sentinel provided all the incentive that was needed to convince members of the mirror Council_." He walked slowly across the small balcony to join Roberts and leaned over, also studying the people sitting far below them. "_I am curious… are you going to tell them about the destruction of Vulcan in the mirror universe? After all, the Captains returned here before learning the outcome of your confrontation with the mirror Preservers_."

Roberts shook his head slowly. "No. There is no need for them to know. The history of the alternate universe continues to parallel our own, but with distinct differences. Your counterpart on the mirror _Relativity_, for example, will most likely fill my role in their future. That means my own duplicate will continue to serve Starfleet in their version of our 29th century."

"_As curious as they are, I predict that they will find out eventually, especially if theirs is the team that is assigned to work with Preserver factions from the other realm. They'll want to check up on Starfleet there, just like they have kept tabs on ours here_."

Roberts found himself in full agreement with Data. "Then they'll find out when they choose to satisfy their curiosity. Until then, the tragic news of the mirror Vulcan will only sadden them." He glanced suspiciously in Data's direction. "You've already got plans to help survivors over there, don't you?"

"_Well… if the need arises and the opportunity presents itself, I will certainly be willing to assist those suffering in the other universe. That is one of the reasons that I wanted to stymie the efforts of the Scholar and the Sentinel… a universe with history that so closely matches our own has already proven to be very useful to us. Particularly with our ongoing problems in recruiting skilled labor_…"

"I'm surprised," commented Roberts honestly. "You used to hesitate before meddling. Now you seem to practically crave the opportunity to do so."

"_Crave it?_" Data weighed the comment carefully. "_No, I do not believe your assessment is entirely accurate. However, like any good steward, we must look after those we care most about. My counterpart aboard the_ Relativity _may choose to remain where he is and address Starfleet's problems in the aftermath of Vulcan's destruction. Or he may choose to leave that duty to someone else, and assume your role in the mirror universe's future. Either way, that version of Starfleet – like ours - will soon discover that there is no easy way to encounter new worlds and new civilizations. Many of the species they meet will always be distrustful or openly hostile… that is the natural order of things_."

Folding his arms carefully, Frank Roberts continued to study his mentor carefully. "So you don't regret your decision to move us over there without our knowledge… even after Soran's surprise bomb resulted in the destruction of Vulcan."

"_I have no regrets_," replied Data firmly. "_I was not eager to see an up and coming Federation assimilated by the Borg, or the entire Milky Way galaxy subjected to the whims of the Scholar and Sentinel. There are too many alternate universes already where efforts to form a lasting peace have failed. The Vulcan philosophy will survive across the way, as will the restored version of Starfleet. Their history will be filled with as many adventures and dangerous encounters with other species as our own is, but in the end they will be all right. There will be more dark days ahead, but in the end they will live long and prosper_."

"Well, I have high hopes that all of the emergencies _here_ are over for awhile," decided Roberts with a faint smirk. "I've been away from my desk for far too long. Jean-Luc is okay at filing paperwork, but Jim Kirk has a tendency to procrastinate."

"_I shall check in on you from time to time_," Data promised. "_And you may feel free to contact me, should you require additional assistance_."

"Many thanks for all your help," replied Roberts sincerely. "Good luck with your new life in subspace, and – by all means – keep those new recruits coming!" He watched the image of his friend fade slowly away, and then began a slow descent down the staircase toward the distant group of people below.

The Starfleet Captains were ready and waiting at the front of the auditorium, with everyone except Charles Tucker having already chosen seats directly in front of the central stage. For some odd reason, Tucker had selected a chair much farther down the row and essentially isolated himself. His sister pointed out that Trip was basically feeling a bit 'overworked' of late and hoping that Frank Roberts had called the meeting to 'take back' much of the responsibility that had been unexpectedly dropped on his desk. "I need some time to think!" the former Starfleet Commander had insisted earlier. "Honestly, all I want is some time to myself."

Erika Hernandez, Jonathan Archer, and Elizabeth Tucker were seated directly behind James Kirk, Jean-Luc Picard, Kathyrn Janeway, and Benjamin Sisko. The three of them were busy folding sheets of a substance used by the Preservers as a substitute for paper. Each of them worked steadily to create their own uniquely designed versions of the infamous paper airplane. As soon as each was ready, they would sail them across the row of seats toward Tucker's and then instantly begin work constructing another.

Elizabeth was using the basic, standard triangular design and had already stuck several of her impromptu airplanes in Tucker's hair. She laughed with satisfaction each time one of them landed on her brother, watching with amusement as he shook his head with mock disgust at their adolescent behavior. Each time she scored a hit, Tucker flashed her a wry grin as he plucked the projectile out of his hair and slowly crumpled it into a tightly compressed ball. Then he would turn his back on them again and return to his moody silence.

"Apparently you've never attended Starfleet Academy," Hernandez commented to Elizabeth. The NX-02 Captain's airplanes were much shorter, with fatter wings that tipped upward at the end points. "If you had endured the lengthy, non-stop lectures that Jonathan and I listened to, you would have had plenty of time to perfect your design." Her own projectiles would regularly sail smoothly across the short distance separating them from Trip before catching the room's slight ventilation breeze. Then they would spiral around his head in rapidly narrowing circles until finally crashing into him or one of the nearby, empty chairs. "Score!" Hernandez called out delightedly as one of her missiles landed in Tucker's lap.

"Honestly, this is the first time I've ever seen a bunch of Captains behave like _children_," Trip growled irritably, briefly glancing over toward them. He ducked out of the way from one of Archer's angular bullet planes just in time to avoid a direct spearing. Frustrated and smiling despite his obvious irritation, the engineer quickly retrieved the nearest undamaged projectile and promptly returned fire in Archer's general direction. "_None_ of you people know how to build these properly," he remarked, examining several of the other paper airplanes lying nearby. "_All_ of these could be significantly improved."

"Is _this_ how young people amused themselves during _your_ Academy lectures?" Jean-Luc asked, turning to regard Kirk thoughtfully. "Honestly, I've never seen such adolescent behavior."

"Mm-hmm," mused Kirk without responding directly.

"I'm _serious_," insisted Picard, folding his arms and turning toward James Kirk, fixing him with one of his most indignant stares. "This is _not_ behavior I would expect from Starfleet Captains, even during the awkward silence leading up to the start of a business meeting."

"Are you telling me that you've _never_ engaged in senseless, emotional behavior that was a bit out of line?" Kirk asked, studying him curiously. "I guess I always suspected that you lacked the ability to have fun, but I never really believed it," he smirked with genuine amusement, "_especially_ after I heard the story as to _how_ you received your artificial heart."

Picard bristled noticeably. "That incident was in my younger days," he insisted proudly.

Harrumphing loudly, Kirk gestured first to the youthful faces of Janeway and Sisko before turning in his chair so that he could motion toward Archer and Hernandez. "_Hello!_" he told Picard intensely, drawing attention to all of the 4-pip faces surrounding them. "You and I are the _old_ guys here, my friend."

The commentary drew a few chuckles from the small crowd and brought a temporary halt to the paper airplane construction process. "Well I think Mr. Tucker is in for a _big_ surprise," predicted Picard after a short pause. "As are the rest of you. I have it on good authority from the strongest of sources that Frank Roberts has called this meeting, not only to debrief us on his return, but also to announce the implementation of a _vacation_ schedule."

"Vacation?" Seated next to Erika Hernandez, Archer perked up immediately. "You've got to be kidding me… we're going to get actual time off… from _work?_"

"Apparently, we will all receive _recurring_ time off at regularly scheduled intervals," nodded Picard with a satisfied smile. "The additional workers that will be moving over from the mirror universe will provide us with more than enough skilled labor for our current workload. So we'll all be able to take a break now and then for our own personal pursuits." He trailed off momentarily, mulling the matter over. "At least until the Council decides to tackle even more aggressive challenges."

"We can always talk them out of that," decided Sisko with a hearty laugh. "Roberts easily does the work of a dozen normal humanoid men. We can threaten to _withhold_ his services."

Trip Tucker snickered at the prospect. "The Magistrate would never fall for that," he decided firmly. "They would just kick him off of his seat on the Council, and then we wouldn't have any leverage."

"If they're offering time off, I say we accept the offer while it's there," shrugged Janeway. "We've all been through a lot… Benjamin and I helped out with that Deep Space Nine incident too."

"Agreed," Sisko added, his mind whirling with possibilities.

"Well I just got here, but I'll take the vacation if they offer it," decided Elizabeth with a pleased smile.

"Where did you hear about this?" Kirk asked, turning quizzically to face Picard. "I have contacts too, and they haven't told me anything about this."

"Perhaps you need to recruit _better_ sources of information," suggested Picard with a distinct hint of pride. "After all, Starfleet history has already proven me to be the best of the best… at least among our small group. So it shouldn't surprise you that I am extra efficient in virtually every category and naturally the one who is most often 'in the know'."

"The best of the best…" Kirk trailed off with a skeptical expression on his face. "I thought we settled that matter already… about just who among us is the _best_." He watched Jean-Luc's expression shift instantly to a defensive stance. "I would remind you, Jean-Luc, that Starfleet admired my abilities so greatly that they entrusted me with _two_ starships named _Enterprise_."

Picard held up a pair of fingers. "NCC-1701-D and –E," he replied coolly. "I have also commanded two vessels with that name."

"Not _before_ you entered the Nexus," grinned Kirk. "Your personal history ends there, and it was the Picard who chose to _leave_ the Nexus who returned to command the _Enterprise-E_."

"A technicality sir," snapped Picard. "I am an _exact_ duplicate of the individual who left the Nexus."

"Besides, your ship changed its class," continued Kirk without missing a beat. "Galaxy-Class, Sovereign-Class. Back in my day, there was only one man who commanded two ships of the same class with the same name… and that would be _me!_"

"That's because your day was a century before ours," spoke up Sisko, catching Kirk slightly off guard. "After the _Defiant_ was destroyed in the Dominion war, the _Sao Paulo_ was assigned to me as a replacement along with an order allowing me to officially change her name to _Defiant_." He held up his hands almost triumphantly. "So I duplicated your effort - same class and same name."

Befuddled, Kirk sighed heavily. "I really thought we had already settled this," he repeated dubiously, shaking his head slowly from side to side with mild dismay.

"So did I," piped up Janeway. "After all, _I_ won the poker game."

"Copy that!" nodded Picard firmly, pointing in Janeway's direction. "Not only did she beat us at poker, but she was the _youngest_ to receive a promotion to the Admiralty."

"Admiral Schmadmiral," growled Kirk irritably. "The poker game, I admit, was impressive. But any butt-kissing officer can schmooze their way into the Admiralty. It takes a lot more guts to stay out in the field of fire, if you ask me."

Erika turned toward Archer with sudden interest. "Poker game?"

Jonathan laughed at the not-so-distant memory. "Shortly after we all arrived here, the five of us played a poker game to see which Captain would come out on top. Four of us went 'all in' on the first hand, with Janeway prevailing. Kirk folded and stayed out of our showdown because he knew that three of us would automatically be eliminated. Even so, his ego ended up getting the better of him and he went 'all in' on the second hand."

"And then he also _lost_," pointed out Janeway with an amused chuckle. "_L-O-S-T_," she persisted relentlessly, spelling out the word as Kirk's face reddened with embarrassment. "One of the few predictable, never-changing constants in this universe is the male ego."

"Hmm," mused Hernandez thoughtfully. "It sounds like a rematch is in order. And if you ever decide to hold one, I'd appreciate being included." Her face lit up with a confident smile at the prospect. "After all, _six_ competitive Starfleet Captains would prove to be an even more interesting challenge than five."

Observing her from his seat, Picard found himself interested in her idea. "I know just where we can hold such a match," he commented, holding up an index finger for emphasis. "_If_, that is, James Kirk will cease with the non-stop bragging about his past and allow us to get back to the much more interesting subject of our upcoming vacation time."

"The subject of vacation time is _still_ a rumor," interjected Kirk snidely, "until proven otherwise."

"Au contraire," replied Picard immediately, tossing a data padd into Kirk's lap. "Frank Roberts has indeed returned. You will note on that padd that the topic of annual leave for all of us was added to the agenda just a few minutes ago…" He glared defiantly at Kirk. "I _choose_ to pay attention even while mingling with others who regularly digress into irrelevancy or amuse themselves with the construction of imperfectly formed flying objects."

"Okay… now that we know we're getting vacation, you've made me extremely curious. _Where _would this theoretical poker rematch of ours take place?" asked Janeway. "Certainly not in that ghastly, central meeting place of ours that they choose to call a 'lounge'…"

"I purchased some land," grinned Picard, clearly pleased by her sudden interest. "During our time here, we've spent most of our shifts working in the office complex on the outside of this Dyson sphere. I did some checking and there's quite a bit of unused, terra-formed _land_ available for development on the _inner _surface. Much of it is extremely lovely, in fact."

"You're a _landowner_ now?" Benjamin Sisko studied Jean-Luc Picard with new respect. "That's a _great_ idea," he admitted, clapping his hands lightly with approval. "I take it you used the credit we've racked up from the successful completion of our many assignments?"

"Oh yes," confirmed Picard. "You would all be surprised at how much we've earned through our service here. I have plenty of land available, and I made certain to have a cabin by the lake constructed for my personal use. The cabin would be perfect for another poker game. Eventually, as we earn more credits and additional time off, I'm going to get even more involved with my new home away from home. It's going to look really nice once I've finished turning it into…"

"…a vineyard," guessed Kirk instantly, slapping his forehead. "You are _so_ predictable."

"_Correct_ sir," Picard replied with a wide smile. "And since the two of us seem to know each other so well, I took the liberty of making certain that there is an abundance of _firewood_ down there for you to chop." He chuckled at his fellow Captain's reaction. "There might also be a stable, along with a replicated horse or two as well."

"Now you're talking," said James Kirk, clearly elated. "I can ride horse back after triumphantly defeating five other starship Captains at poker."

"I wouldn't _count_ those chickens just yet," rumbled Sisko ominously.

"_Who_ is counting chickens?" asked a new voice, causing all of them to turn. Frank Roberts had moved in quietly from behind them after completing his meeting with Data on the upper balcony level. He trotted up the small staircase leading to the stage and continued casually over to the Magistrate's simple, chestnut-stained podium. The android paused there for a moment, carefully arranging the various padds and simulated paper printouts that had been routed to his in-box during his prolonged absence

"No one is actually counting chickens," chuckled Tucker, gesturing casually toward the abundance of paper airplanes lying on the chairs and floor surrounding his chosen, isolated seat. "But quite obviously, they _were_ amusing themselves in various sophomoric ways prior to your arrival." He glanced over his shoulder toward his sister, who defiantly stuck her tongue out at him. "My sister and Captain Hernandez attempted unsuccessfully to mobilize a private air force against me. Meanwhile, the other men and women whom you've entrusted with serious responsibilities contented themselves with a petty bickering session that even 8th graders would be extremely proud of."

"Hmm," mused Roberts thoughtfully. "Then everything has essentially returned to normal."

"Yes it has," Tucker agreed.

"_Hear hear!_" chanted Archer from his seat directly behind Kirk.

"Well then, let's officially begin our meeting." Roberts picked up one of the papers and glanced at it. "Our first order of business will be to address any old business."

"The _hell_ with old business," snapped Picard impatiently. "We want to hear about the new business, especially the part about a _vacation_."

Around him, the rest of those assembled roared and shouted with approval.

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

_**Author's Notes: **_

_Some of you may be wondering… what is UP with this guy using episode titles from the various series as Chapter titles in the last two stories? The scoop on that is as follows:_

_1. In college I wrote English papers for my professor on any subject he chose. He liked to randomly pick a subject that we would all HAVE to write about, and to make the process even more fun I would secretly choose a title from one of the 79 original "Star Trek" episodes. Then I would write something that matched his subject and also linked somehow in with the title. It was an extra challenge to be sure, and if my teacher ever suspected what I was doing, he never said so._

_2. That's primarily why I decided to use episode titles AGAIN in "Reign of Terror". This time I used Trek titles while writing a REAL Trek story, kind of as an homage to those long since gone college days and partly because constantly thinking up new, creative chapter titles is HARD!_

_3. The process worked so well and was so fun with "Reign of Terror" that I decided to do it again in this story, using many of the wonderful DS9 titles this time! _

_THANKS FOR STICKING WITH ME AND READING EVERYBODY!_

_I am glad that there is a website like this one to share our stories on._

_And I'm also glad that there is a __**Le'letha**__ out there somewhere, prowling the world and beta reading for anyone who asks her to do so politely. Her feedback has influenced the outcome of more than one storyline throughout this series, and I am very grateful for her never ending presence and thorough analysis. I dare say that, without her, there might only have been one or two Trek stories. The feedback continually inspired me and sent my mind awhirl with all kinds of new ideas and all kinds of possibilities. I am forever grateful!_

_Also my thanks go out to EVERYONE who has taken the time to read and respond. Your feedback, as well, has always been welcome and is very much appreciated._

_I will not promise never to write another Trek novel. However, I am at least temporarily riding off into the sunset, because I TOO NEED A VACATION!_

_**Live long and prosper, everyone! *** Bows respectfully *_


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